Far Future 4: Time Lost
by The Fink
Summary: Wes and Katie have vanished. Is it simple abduction or does The Master have another trick up his sleeve? [cowritten with Gamine. Fourth in the Far Future series Second in The Master arc NOW COMPLETE]
1. Where?

Disclaimer: We don't own Wes, Katie, Jen, Eric, Kimberly Lucas and Taylor. We partially don't own Rob Logan and Alice. They're all borrowed from BVE without permission, but no harm, no foul and no money made. Ben Johnson is borrowed from Ekat with grateful thanks. Everyone else has either been dreamed up by the deep and twisted recesses of Rach's brain or has been created by the gorgeous, witty and talented Gamine. We would appreciate you asking before you borrow. With apologies to George...

Rach notes: This is season four of the Far Future series and as it picks up where Quantum Chaos leaves off, you're liable to be lost if you haven't at least read that. With very, VERY grateful thanks to Gamine for agreeing to co write this with me (I couldn't do this without you).

Please offer us feedback -- it tells us how we're doing.

~*~

Where?

As the light faded, Ven knew it was too late. Two members of the welcoming committee had vanished, while the man who'd caused their disappearance was even now trying to back away.

"Oh no you don't..." Ven dived across the landing pad, but even as she tackled him to the ground, she realised there was something drastically wrong.

Over and over he was saying, "What've I done?" It didn't fit the picture.

"What the hell just happened here?" demanded Lucas.

"Where's Katie?" Al yelled. "What the hell have you done to her, you bastard..."

It was only Rob's intervention that prevented Al from launching himself at Ven's captive even as she was hauling him back to his feet.

"Al -- if you kill him now, you're not gonna be any closer to knowing what's happened," Rob warned.

"Ven?" prompted Lucas. "You seemed to know what's going on. **What** has Mr Carmen done?"

"It's called Temporal Abduction," Ven answered, pinioning Carmen's arms firmly behind his back.

"I didn't do it!" Carmen yelped.

"And there's a temporal transmitter in your hand, plus eyewitnesses that say you did," Ven snapped.

"OK -- let's get this inside," Lucas ordered before anyone could say anything else. "Hawking..."

"I'm already on it," Hawking answered, rapidly heading into the base.

~*~

Wes hit the ground with a thud that jarred every tooth, bone, muscle, sinew and tendon he owned. His stomach was in turmoil and he was sweating like a pig. And he thought he'd bitten his tongue, only he was fairly numb just at the moment. He lay on his back, staring up at the blue and cloudless sky.

He knew what had happened. This was the second time he'd been dragged through a time portal without protection. It wasn't a sensation one forgot easily.

"Goddammit," he muttered when feeling returned to his face. "I'm too old for this shit." 

The second thing he did was look around for Katie. They'd been standing together, waiting for their kids to come home. Wes had draped an arm around her shoulders as reassurance for both of them. 

And then Joshua Carmen had stumbled against them, and the bizarre slow-motion effect of travelling though time had begun.

Katie was curled in a heap, groaning and making retching sounds. Wes sat up slowly, the world spun crazily, and he remembered the other thing he hated about time travel as he emptied his stomach onto the sand.

From the corner of his streaming eye he could see Katie crawling over to him. He scooted away from the mess he'd made and lay back again, wiping his forearm over his mouth. "Ack," he said. 

Katie gave him a tired nod and collapsed next to him, her head on his chest. Wes curled an arm around her.

"I thought I'd gotten used to that," Wes said, after sucking in a few deep breaths. "Didn't get sick the last time I time-hopped."

Katie held up a finger. "One, you were in a time ship. Two," a second finger went up, "you were expecting it. And three," her hand flopped back on his chest, "that was no hop. Took too long. We've jumped millennia, is my guess."

Wes sighed. "I hate number three."

"They'll be looking for us," she said. "All we have to do is not mess with the time line, not interact with anybody."

The sound of drumming hooves caught Wes' attention. He sat up and squinted. Sure enough, on the horizon was a group of silhouettes, black against the bright sun, riding some sort of huge creatures directly at their position. "I think," he said, hurriedly pulling Katie to her feet, "that's going to be something of a challenge."

~*~

John looked at Lexia and inwardly grimaced. They were sitting in the canteen, cups of coffee on the table between them, and so far, neither had said a word. _Facing dad when he's angry with me would be better than this,_ he mused. About the only good thing was that JJ had rapidly absented himself from the meeting. John had a suspicion that the other man had every idea what this conversation was likely to be about and had decided it wasn't a conversation he needed to be a part of.

"John," Lexia finally began, "what's wrong?"

John froze, startled. "Huh?"

"I thought we were friends, but in the last two weeks you've been avoiding me."

"Well -- you've been out on patrol, I've been in the admin office." And the beauty of that statement was it was perfectly true -- Jackson had still to sign him back to active duty. It just wasn't the whole truth. 

The look on Lexia's face told John she wasn't buying that. "John, I've seen you do it." She sounded hurt. "You see me coming and dive into the nearest room or...or go the other way or..." She shrugged. "I'd just like to know what I've done."

_Started going out with someone else._ But he could hardly say that. "You haven't..."

"Don't lie to me," she cut in. More gently, she said, "I know there's something wrong."

John sighed. He could say that he was worried about his father, but he had a feeling Lexia wouldn't buy that. Which left him with the uncomfortable alternative of somehow putting her off -- and great job he was doing of that so far -- or telling her the truth.

"John?" Lexia was now looking worried. "What is it?"

"Look -- I didn't...don't wanna tread on anyone's toes," John finally managed.

Lexia blinked slowly. "Oh." She looked down at her coffee cup.

"Oh?" John wondered what that was supposed to mean.

"I...sorta thought..." Lexia trailed off. "JJ and I aren't dating, if that's what you're thinking."

"But he wants to," said John. "And I sorta think you do too...an' I don't wanna get in the way."

Lexia snorted. "Might want to practice the sincerity before you say that one again."

"OK, I wanna beat his brains out," John snapped. "That any better?"

"Well it's honest," Lexia shot back. "Beats lying."

John said nothing, and did his best to swallow back the surge of anger. Yelling was not going to make this conversation the mature discussion it probably needed to be.

"Now that I have your attention," Lexia continued, her own voice moderating back to quiet tones, "let me tell you something. I'm not out to meet Mr Right. I'm not looking for love. I'm..." She paused and swallowed. "There's stuff going on that...I'm dealing with. On top of the craziness that's going on around here, with your dad an' this virus that's doing the rounds...it's too nuts. All I'm looking for right now is friendship."

For a second, the full import of the words didn't register with John. Then the truth finally trickled through his mind. "You mean...you're not interested in JJ?"

Lexia rolled her eyes. "That's what I've just said."

"But..."

"John, he's a friend. **Just** a friend," she emphasised. "A good friend, and a nice guy, but that's all." 

John could hear the unspoken 'at the moment', but it did nothing to kill off the renewed feeling of hope that maybe everything wasn't screwed up to hell.

"Think you can be the same?" Lexia continued softly.

_"If it let me be a part of her circle of friends, I'd take what I could get."_ Suddenly, John understood what Rocky had been trying to tell him in the bar, and it dawned with him just how stupid he'd been in the past two weeks. "Of course," he found himself answering. "Whatever you need from me, Lex."

Lexia smiled at that. "OK, then." There was a bleep from her headset. "Oops -- gotta go; sorry."

John chuckled a bit. "See you later, huh?"

"Count on it!" 

~*~

"Crap," said Wes, running toward the only cover he could see, Katie on his heels. "Crap crap crap." It was a wall of rocks, spiring into the sky, bare and unforgiving. Not a stellar hiding place. He looked around the cliff face, trying to determine which overhang to futilely dive under, when Katie smacked his butt.

"UP!" she said, suiting action to words by leaping for a sandy outcropping and pulling herself up. "Come on!"

Wes huffed out a short breath. "Definitely too old for this shit," he muttered, then grasped the edge of a boulder.

A hand at the back of his collar dragged him wholesale up the rocky shelter, and between them they scrambled to the top. Wes nodded his thanks at his companion, and the two of them played what he privately termed the "nothing to see here, move along" game as the riders approached.

The creatures they rode were huge, lumbering, shaggy, looking for all the world like the drawings Wes had seen in school of woolly mammoths. They stank too, even at this distance. Wes made a face. At least he and Katie were downwind, he thought wryly, breathing through his mouth. 

They'd found the piles of sick, Wes thought as the group drew up, one of the riders dismounting and studying the ground. He could see them better now. They wore light coloured clothing, loose enough to allow air to circulate, but covering every inch of skin from sun exposure. Even their heads and faces were swathed. Wes mentally acknowledged that this was probably smart. Already he could feel the part in his hair and the backs of his hands and neck burning in the scorching desert sun.

The rider on the ground hollered something undecipherable, and the attention of the party swivelled toward the rocks. Wes ducked back, mentally running through every swear word he'd ever heard. Then he made some up.

~*~

Fifteen minutes later, most of the group were gathered in Ops. Carmen -- more for his own safety than anything else -- was safely secured in a holding cell elsewhere in the facility; Hawking was busily engaged in temporal readings and the beginnings of the hunt for the missing pair while Alice and Namir had both been sent to bed in no uncertain terms. Alice hadn't protested; Namir had tried, but his protests had been undermined by the jaw-cracking yawns that punctuated them.

Looking around the table, Ven realised that she probably ought to have also ordered Rick and Eric off as well. Both looked exhausted -- and in Rick's case, shell shocked. But then it wasn't everyday that you witnessed your father literally vanish into thin air. Elsewhere around the table, Al looked absolutely wild. Only the fact that Carmen was in secure holding was preventing him from committing murder, Ven suspected. Rob and Lucas both looked grim, although disturbingly, Rob was also casting her knowing looks. The final person seated at the table, Kimberly also looked grim and concerned.

_Like we needed anything more going wrong._

"OK," said Lucas. "What do we know?"

"Carmen's kidnapped my wife!" Al snapped.

"Not just your wife," put in Kimberly before anyone else could say a word. "Wes is missing too."

Al opened his mouth to say something in response, but Lucas got in first: "OK. Why?"

"To keep up the pressure on us," Rob offered. "I don't know what Kim said in her testimony today..."

"Testimony?" Eric whispered.

"Fill you in later," Kimberly answered, giving his hand a squeeze.

"...but it's a pretty safe bet it screwed up Kerin's case even better than we did!" Rob finished, paying the minor interruption no heed.

"Right." Lucas nodded. "So was Carmen stringing us along this morning? Or is he just trying to prevent lynching now?"

That prompted silence. Either answer was ridiculous. That fact was killing Al, from his expression. 

"Anyone?" Lucas appealed.

"Mind control," said Eric softly.

"Weak-willed..." Al muttered.

"Not necessarily," said Ven, shooting Al with a shut-up glare. 

"Ven? Eric?" Lucas enquired. "Either of you wanna explain?"

A brief smile crossed Eric's face. "Can't speak for Ven, but mind control's been tried on at least one Guardian since all this shit started."

For a fraction of a second, Ven thought Kimberly was going to say something, but whatever it was, she decided otherwise.

"Ven?" Lucas prompted. "What were you thinking?"

Ven dragged her wayward attention back to the current situation. "Something he was saying when I grabbed him," she said. At Lucas' raised eyebrow, she continued, "He was saying he didn't do it."

"Which was dumb," commented Kimberly.

Rob nodded. "Yeah. But, as he was put into the holding cell he said, I couldn't stop -- I didn't want to do it."

Al opened his mouth to say something, but Lucas got in first: "Sounds like some form of memory tech." Lucas frowned. "Which means we need to track down the who, where, when and why of that. Ven, you're not a mem-spec, are you?"

Ven shook her head. "No -- gen-prac."

"What about Alicia Roberts?" suggested Rob.

Ven was a little surprised by Lucas' answering grimace. "If at all possible, I didn't want to involve anyone else in this." He sighed. "On the other hand, The Master already knows so frighteningly much about us that the chances are she's already a target..." Lucas shook his head. "I'll contact her in the morning -- it's too late to do anything about it now." He grimaced again. "Anyone got any other thoughts?"

"I don't think this was part of the original plan," said Kimberly thoughtfully. 

That provoked a stunned silence.

"Honey?" Eric finally managed.

"Well...think about this," said Kimberly. "The Master, via Carmen, has had plenty of opportunities to do...what was it?"

"Temporal abduction," supplied Ven.

"Thanks. He could have abducted Lucas, or any of us, for that matter, during the trial. Let's face it, he could have easily abducted me when he took me over to the TOI -- and that would have been 'that' as far as the case in Eric's defence. But he didn't..."

"Thank God," Eric murmured.

"...so why suddenly, **now **decide to abduct Wes and Katie?"

"You think The Master's improvising?" queried Rob.

Kimberly shrugged. "You don't?"

"It's a theory," said Lucas.

"If he's improvising," said Eric quietly, "am I the only one wondering why he needs to keep us here?"

A long pause greeted the question.

"What do you mean, Eric?" Ven asked eventually.

Eric shrugged stiffly. "I don't know -- I just..." He hesitated. "If Wes is missing, someone needs to tell Jen, right?"

"First thing tomorrow morning," Lucas agreed. "I'm giving Hawking twelve hours to see if he can pull a miracle out of the hat -- no need to worry Jen if I don't have to."

"Couldn't hurt to tell her to keep her eyes open, then."

Lucas sighed and shook his head. "No. It couldn't." 

~*~

Wes watched the riders carefully. Once or twice they seemed to be peering upward at his and Katie's position, but no shouts of recognition or sounds of pursuit came. Finally, they drifted off, the great beasts lumbering away toward the yellow horizon.

They seemed to have gone, whatever they were, leaving only a whiff of stink behind. Wes sagged in relief.

Katie scooted back from the edge of the cliff and turned to say something, but what it was, Wes never knew as one of the desert people suddenly appeared behind her, hitting at her with some kind of staff. To Wes' horror, Katie gave a shriek and rolled off the edge of the precipice.

"KATIE!" Wes shouted, lashing out at the being with a kick to the midsection and scrambling to the edge. He could see a flash of white below, on a ledge. He strained toward it in a panic, his arms and fingers stretched to their limit. "KATIE!"

There was a flash of pain from the back of his skull. And then everything went black.

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	2. Who?

Who?

Eric lay back on the bio-bed and listened to the sound of Ven moving around the room. The rustle of her clothing and the muted sound of her footfalls told him she was moving briskly around a carpeted and reasonably large room. His mind painted in some details. The room was probably painted a soothing magnolia or pale green. Ven's movements were largely unobstructed, so there probably wasn't much in the way of furniture -- and what there was, more than likely, was of the easily moved variety. Eric guessed there was probably a small pile of those hard, plastic chairs that hospitals and clinics always seemed to have in abundance. It was probably off to his right, in the corner. It couldn't be to the left -- that was where the door was. Nor could it be at the other end of the room -- that seemed to be where most of Ven's movements were centred, which probably meant cupboards or other storage, or possibly some kind of work bench. Whichever, it meant it was unlikely a pile of chairs was also going to be down there, they'd be in the way.

At that point in his thoughts, he heard Ven approach the bio-bed, followed by a rattling noise as she set something down on a hard surface just to his left. Bedside cabinet or table, there, then.

"OK," she said. "I'm not going to do a full exam tonight. It's getting late and I think you've about had enough excitement for one day."

"A medical exam is not what I'd define as exciting," Eric retorted, a small smile on his face.

He heard her give a chuckle. "You know precisely what I mean."

Eric shifted a little until he guessed he was more or less meeting Ven's gaze. "Guess I do. So what's up, Doc?"

If Ven was puzzled by the reference, she didn't say. "To answer your question, what I'm going to do now is draw a little blood -- I'm pretty certain they've been pumping you full of drugs, so I need to find out what they were to counter-act their effects."

Eric frowned. "I don't remember being injected with anything."

"You wouldn't," said Ven. She took hold of his arm and traced the marks that indicated where the manacles had been. "It was intravenous. The shackles contained the delivery mechanism of a hypospray." She lightly touched the inside of his left wrist and he hissed in pain -- he hadn't realised just how much that spot hurt. "Because it was constantly pressed against the Cephalic vein in your wrist, the valve was constantly open..."

"And they could pump whatever the hell they liked into me," Eric finished.

He felt her press something against the inside of his left elbow. "You'll feel a little sting," Ven warned. She pressed harder and sure enough, there was a brief tingle as they hypospray did its job. "There. I can put that on to analyse over night and by tomorrow morning, I will know pretty much every chemical they've put into your blood stream. From there...I can start treatment."

Eric hesitated a beat. "Are you saying that I'm not permanently blind?"

Ven sighed. "At this point," she replied, "I'd rather not say anything too firmly, but there are definitely certain aspects of your situation that are presenting as drug side effects."

Eric could hear the caution in her words. "So I shouldn't get my hopes up of being able to see to rip Hordak's head off?"

He heard Ven sigh again. "Unless there is physical damage to your optical nerves, you **should** regain your sight. But, until I've done your blood work and done a full physical, I can't give you any kind of timetable or make you any promises."

Eric offered her a smile. "I understand that. So what happens now?"

"I'd like you to sleep in here for tonight -- the bio-bed will monitor you overnight..."

"Better safe than sorry," Eric observed.

"Right," Ven agreed. "Kimberly will be back any second with a blanket for you; when she gets here, I'll get out of your way and let you sleep." Almost as if to prove Ven's point, Eric heard Kimberly's light, quick footsteps in the hallway outside the medi-centre. "And here she is."

"Hey," said Kimberly from the doorway.

"Hi Kim, c'mon in -- I'm done," said Ven.

With his concentration on the conversation no longer required, Eric felt a wave of tiredness overtake him. Ven had been right -- he wasn't up to having a full physical just yet. For the first time in two weeks, he was drifting off into proper sleep and not even Kimberly was going to be able to keep him awake now.

~*~

A bizarre sound, something between a roar and a howl, penetrated the darkness. Wes groaned. His head...

It came back to him in a rush. Katie... Wes opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but a gentle hand at his shoulder restrained him. "Easy, my young friend," said an unfamiliar voice. 

Wes squinted in the glare of the desert sun, blocking the light with one hand. Before him, seated comfortably on a yellow-brown rock, sat a hooded man in a dark brown cloak, his fingers wrapped around a walking stick.

What did it matter? Wes let his hand fall. "Katie," he whispered.

The cloaked man got to his feet and reached down a hand to help Wes up. "If you refer to your friend there," he nodded toward a very dirty Katie, leaning tiredly on a rock, "she's a bit banged up but otherwise fine." 

"Katie! Thank God." Relieved nearly to the point of losing it, Wes limped over to his friend, pulling her into a hug. She squeaked a protest when he touched her arm, and the cloaked man cleared his throat.

"I suggest we get going," he said, arranging the sleeves of his robes. "This desert is unsafe for travellers and tourists, and I can care better for a broken arm at my shelter."

"Hope it's not far," said Wes, helping Katie along. She hadn't said a word, and he knew what that was likely to mean. 'Banged up' wasn't in it. He only hoped her arm wasn't actually broken, regardless of what the stranger said.

Which recalled Wes to his manners. "We owe you some thanks," he said. "How did you manage to fend off those whatever they were?"

The stranger smiled mysteriously, scratching his salt-and-pepper beard. "The desert people are superstitious," he said. "I simply made them believe I was hungrier than they were."

"Hungrier?" said Katie, stopping in her tracks. "You mean they were going to -- oh, disgusting."

The stranger shrugged. "Life is harsh in the outer waste," was all the reply he made. "Here we are."

They came around an outcropping, and Wes stared. A sort of craft, resembling nothing so much as a souped-up dune buggy without wheels, floated there.

He scratched his head, wincing when he ran across a burned area on his scalp. "This reminds me of something," he muttered under his breath. Aloud Wes said, "I'm Wes, and this is Katie. We really appreciate your help...?"

The stranger smiled, tugging off his hood. "You can call me Ben."

~*~

Kimberly sat, Indian-style, on one of the two bio-beds in the medi-centre and looked across to the other one. Eric was still asleep, but rest was something that had essentially eluded her. Ven had decided against doing a complete physical the previous evening, saying that Eric was too worn out, and much as Kimberly agreed and understood, it had left her with a restless night while she worried over Eric's condition. What had they done to Eric? Would he be all right?

She found herself studying the changes that two weeks had wrought. Not as gaunt as the clone, he was still markedly thinner than he had been; two weeks of starvation rations had seen to that. His face showed far more lines than it had two weeks ago and between them, the thick, uneven growth of beard and stubble and the liberal streaks of grey in his hair, he looked old and frail; two words Kimberly had a hard time associating with Eric.

He wasn't asleep any longer. Instead, he was 'staring' up at the ceiling, obviously concentrating on something. Knowing him well, he was probably straining with every last nerve to make use of his remaining four senses to try and determine who, if anyone, was in the room with him.

"Kim?"

"I'm here," she answered, not a bit surprised he'd guessed.

A smile crossed his face. "Did you get any sleep?"

She uncurled herself from the bio-bed. "Yes." He just shot her an 'are you kidding me' look, all the more disconcerting because he contrived to meet her eyes, even without being able to see her. "I did!"

He shot her a smile. "OK."

"Just not as much as I ought to," she admitted. "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"That." She stood up and started to move towards his bed. She barely made a sound, but he started to reach for her all the same. It was disturbing to say the least. "Make me tell you the truth."

Eric chuckled. "Kim, I know you -- and I guess this isn't exactly the first time we've been here." His chuckle died. "I'm sorry Kim."

"Hey. Not your fault." She crouched beside the bed, taking hold of his hand, and gently kissed him.

"Doesn't stop me from feeling guilty." He sighed. "I know you, Kim."

"I can't lie," she said softly. "It's been hard. I've been worried about you. There's been stuff going on here...the trial's almost done."

"And me nowhere near a courtroom," said Eric dryly.

"You've been cloned," Kimberly answered. 

"A lot of that about lately," he replied lightly.

"I knew it wasn't you, though. And it wasn't because the clone was bad." Kimberly kissed him again. "I'd just know you anywhere. You're a one of a kind, Eric."

~*~

Rick concentrated on stirring the contents of the pan, careful not to let it stick. If he was doing that, he wasn't worrying about Alice, or his father and Katie, or Eric, or any of the other craziness that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. Besides, no-one would thank him if breakfast was burned! 

"Hey."

Rick looked round and felt a surge of relief to see Alice walking into the kitchen. Her hair was still damp from the shower and was hanging, loosely, around her shoulders in soft, golden waves, while she was wearing an oversized sweatshirt with leggings. It was a combination that shouldn't have looked sexy, but somehow, on Alice, it did. Or it could just be the relief of realising she looked none the worse for the previous day's events. 

He smiled at her. "Hi." Abandoning the pot to its own devices, he crossed the room to meet her, bent down and gave her a good morning kiss. Out of everything in his life, at least **this** was something going right.

And then Alice winced into the kiss as he made to wrap his arms around her.

"Ali?" Rick tried not to sound hurt and concerned as he stepped back, letting his arms drop back to his sides. He didn't really succeed.

Alice, for her part, winced again, and offered him a sheepish look. "Sorry -- not your fault." Rick lifted his eyebrows. "I'm a walking bruise this morning. Don't think even Taylor's Grade A heavies managed to hit me in as many places as I managed in that vent."

For a second, Rick stared. Part of him wanted to make her pain go away. Part of him wanted to hunt down the people that had made yesterday necessary. He wanted to yell at her for going through the vent in the first place. He was livid with himself for not being able to do it for her.

"Rick, if you've got an 'I told you so' in there somewhere, say it and get it over with," Alice groaned.

"Wish you'd told me sooner," Rick finally managed. 

"Didn't feel it until I got up," she answered, moving to lean against a nearby work surface and wincing as she did so. "Combination of too tired and too much adrenaline last night."

"About..." But Rick trailed off as a smell of burning reached him. "Oh crap!"

"What's burning?"

"Breakfast." He hurriedly turned back to the pan, but it was too late. The contents were well and truly carbonised. "Damnit."

Alice appeared at his elbow, nose wrinkled in disgust. "What was it supposed to be?"

"Eggs." Rick grimaced.

"Hmm." Alice glanced at him. "What time is breakfast supposed to be ready?"

Rick glanced at his watch. "Half an hour."

"Well," she said, removing the pan and heading for the garbage disposal unit, "at least we've got time to start over."

Rick sighed. "I am such a doofus."

"Nah." Alice chuckled as she returned and set the dirty pan down on the side. "Your talents just lie in a different direction."

He had enough time to wonder at her statement, then she leaned up and kissed him and the thought of cooking breakfast vanished from his mind.

~*~

Ven studied the toxicology report and groaned. This was all kinds of wrong. 

The blood sample she'd taken a from Eric had been put through toxicological analysis over night, and she should be looking at a neat set of conclusions now, except that she wasn't. The report was 'incomplete'. It identified particles from four truth serums and will suppressants in the sample, but it also identified particles from a fifth substance. A substance that wasn't in her database of known narcotics and yet, as she stared at the chemical breakdown of it, it looked familiar.

__

And whatever it is, Ven mused, _it's the cause of the damage. It has to be._

The four identified chemicals were drugs that actually came from Time Force Medical and that had been designed to work in concert with each other. They were **not** designed for torture, but for helping with witness interrogation. There were strict rules controlling their usage, and they were emphatically not available commercially.

__

Which means someone from Time Force has supplied this operation, she realised with another groan.

"Sounds pretty heavy," observed a voice.

Ven didn't need to look round to know that Rob was standing in the doorway of the lab giving her one of his patented stares.

"Want to talk about it?" he continued as she made no reply.

"Can't," Ven answered. "Doctor/patient confidentiality."

"And last night?"

"Last night, what, Rob?" Ven was grateful that she hadn't turned round. At least it meant he couldn't see her wince.

"Ven, you **knew** what had happened to Wes and Katie." Rob was hesitating. Then softly, he added, "If I was guessing..."

"Yeah, well don't bother, Rob," Ven snapped. "Leave it."

"I can't." He sighed. "Ven, you need to tell them what happened to Martin."

"Martin has nothing to do with this!"

"Doesn't he?"

Ven span round in her seat, intending to refute Rob's charge, but Rob had already gone. She slumped back in her seat and wished Rob's 'guesses' were a little wider of the mark. _But then he's always been sharp._

She turned back to the toxicology report, but instead of the graphs and figures she saw the clinic. Saw the masked men bursting in. Saw...

"Ven?"

Ven jumped. Spinning round, she found Kimberly and a much cleaned up Eric standing in the doorway. It had, she realised, been Kimberly who had spoken.

"It's breakfast time," Kimberly continued.

Ven glanced at the chronometer on the wall and cursed. How had it got so late? "Yeah -- I'll be along in a moment. Just need to finish up here."

"OK."

Ven couldn't help but wince as she watched Eric and Kimberly move on towards the living area of the complex. It just brought her mind back to the toxicology report. It was all wrong.

__

All messed up and no place to go.

~*~

Lucas sat back in his seat as breakfast came to an end. Ostensibly, it had been a friendly meal, but beneath the pleasant banter lurked tension that could be cut with a knife. Al had said no more than five words to anyone, which Lucas had more or less been expecting. What had surprised him was Rob's unusually taciturn demeanour. Ven's preoccupation wasn't a shock -- he didn't know what Eric's medical condition was, and, while Eric's presence at the breakfast table probably indicated it wasn't life-threatening, it had to be relatively serious. But that thought just brought Lucas' mind to Eric and to Kimberly. Both were giving a creditable performance, but Lucas saw through the act -- something was worrying them both, and Lucas had the feeling that it wasn't necessarily Eric's physical condition. Only the trio of kids weren't obviously preoccupied -- and even of them, Alice was only half joining in conversation.

"So what's the plan?" asked Rob, suddenly snapping out of whatever he'd been worrying about.

Lucas recalled himself to the present. "Hawking has a preliminary report for me. Everything else is pending what he has to say. When Hawking's done, I'll call a full meeting." 

That seemed to be the cue for people to start leaving the table. After a brief exchange of looks, the trio of kids started to clear up. Ven, Eric and Kimberly departed in the direction of the medi-centre. Rob, after a moment's consideration, headed in the direction of the holding cells, closely followed by Al.

Lucas shook his head as he stood up. Heading out of the dining room himself, he entered Ops. _I hope Hawking has good news for me._ But that thought died a death when he saw the expression on the temporal analyst's face.

"I have bad news and I have worse news," said Hawking without even waiting for Lucas to ask.

"Hit me," said Lucas.

"The bad news is that despite getting a good, strong trace last night, I can't pinpoint Captain Collins or Katie Drake. Somehow, all my attempts are being deflected. If I was at TFHQ, using the scanners there, I think I could break through the interference."

Lucas grimaced. "But until I -- we -- can unravel The Master's plot, the chances of any of us being exactly welcome in TFHQ are slim."

"Not necessarily," said a new voice.

Lucas jumped. He hadn't realised there was a live comm. connection in the room, leave alone the fact that Director Kerin's florid countenance was visible on the comm. screen.

"Director Kerin..." Lucas began.

"Skip the phoney politeness, Kendall -- we both know you don't like me, and God knows, I don't like you." Before Lucas could say anything, Kerin continued, "But, I know that you and your department are very good at what you do, and at this point, you and your little team up in Whereverthehecksville might be about the only thing standing between us and complete disaster."

~*~

Alice collected together the dirty plates from breakfast, her mind only half on the task.

An early morning wake up, thanks to more than twelve hours of sleep, had enabled her to query LIA thoroughly about the Vengeance Morphers and she now knew everything about them -- about how they worked and just what they could do. Some of it wasn't news -- she'd known that the red morpher carried extra comm. sensors to enable the Red Ranger to play the roll of communications officer and she'd guessed that seeing as Namir had been programmed to be an espionage expert the blue morpher probably carried some form of stealth or camouflage mode. That the pink morpher had extra sensors for detecting weaponry and booby traps was also not a shock -- it stood to reason that the demolitions officer would be the one to disarm any traps they ran across. Nor was she entirely surprised to learn that hers was the only morpher with the 'full' version of LIA installed -- the team strategist would have far more need of the ability to query a tactical database in the way she'd been doing almost instinctively the day before. The other morphers all had the passive sensing that had alerted her to Rick's computer phantoms.

What had surprised her was learning that the black morpher's extra mode was a medical scanner. She could see John **really** appreciating that. Not. 

What had also surprised her was learning of the existence of a sixth morpher. That morpher, unlike the other five, had no specialised programming -- in essence, Alice realised, it was intended to be a template for general 'troops'. A utility ranger.

__

And I wonder how useful that'll be to us in the long run, she mused.

All that was information she knew she ought to share with Rick and Namir, but seeing as John and Lexia also needed to know it, she was inclined to hold off until she could tell everyone at once. And she had a feeling that might prove to be sooner rather than later. But there were other things that Rick and Namir needed to know. Things that were likely to be even more immediate than that. Things like the existence of the Alice-clone.

But how did you break the news to your boyfriend that the chances were good that he'd been cloned? She sighed. There **was** no easy way of doing it. Looking up, she realised that both Namir and Rick were looking at her, worriedly.

"Ali?" Namir prompted.

"You are OK after yesterday?" Rick asked.

Alice smiled faintly. _Best just to come out with it..._ "Yeah. I'm fine. But...there's something you guys need to know about yesterday..."

~*~

Kimberly watched from the other bio-bed as Ven began Eric's physical by taking a series of basic readings. Blood pressure, respiration, reflexes -- the sort of thing that Kimberly could well imagine Jackson doing at the SGHQ.

"Blood pressure's a little high -- given the circumstances, that's understandable," Ven commented as she finished taking the readings. "Reflexes are excellent..."

"Good to know I haven't lost those," Eric put in with just a hint of cockiness to his smile.

Kimberly smiled at that -- a left over piece of the Eric she'd first met.

Ven, too, seemed amused more than annoyed by the interruption. "Respiration is a little congested," she continued, "which also doesn't surprise me. You are also suffering from malnutrition. Both of those," she finished, "are easily fixed."

"Should I be waiting for the other shoe to drop?" Eric asked. "That doesn't sound too bad."

Ven shot Kimberly a slightly puzzled glance. "Most people," she said, "would consider that was enough."

"And most people," Eric countered, "haven't just been told all that in what's fairly obviously a 'good news' tone of voice."

"Touché," Kimberly said sotto voce.

"Besides," Eric continued, ignoring Kimberly, "you said last night you were going to run blood tests on me to figure out what the hell drugs they had me on."

"Game set and match, Eric Myers," Kimberly murmured. To Ven she added, "I could have told you trying to feed him information piecemeal was a bad idea."

"Oh, I'd been well warned about that by Lucas, amongst others," Ven admitted. "I just didn't entirely believe them." She shook her head. "Yes, there is more," she continued, "but I wanted to get the definite information out of the way first."

At that, Eric's eyebrows lifted. "Now I **know** I'm not going to like this."

Kimberly looked across at Ven. "Me either; Ven, what's wrong?"

Ven sighed. "The toxicology was incomplete."

"Incomplete?" Kimberly echoed. "What do you mean incomplete?"

"There are five chemical substances in Eric's bloodstream at this time. Four of them, are easily identifiable..." And Kimberly listened with mounting horror and anger as Ven defined what they were and where they had to have come from. Ven finished by saying, "They'll have been the drugs that've kept you 'docile'."

Eric snorted at that, but said nothing.

"And the fifth?" Kimberly prompted.

"Doesn't match any known narcotics," Ven answered.

"What?" Kimberly opened her mouth to voice more of a question, but she realised Eric was frowning. Instead, she said, "Eric, hon?"

"Ven, define 'known' narcotics," Eric requested quietly.

Kimberly started to feel queasy. She recognised the tone of voice. It was the one that said he'd realised something about the situation and he was now violently hoping he was wrong. The first time she'd ever heard it was in an SUV, heading home from the park on his twenty-eighth birthday. On that occasion, he'd simply said 'I have a bad feeling' -- but he'd been proved right all the same. _And I don't think I've known him be wrong since,_ she realised, frantically hoping that this might be the first time he was wrong.

"The known narcotics list is based on a database that was first designed by an FDA agent in early 1990. It is comprehensive but not infallible. Anything that was never given FDA certification wasn't in there, and while attempts have been made to bring in and update the list..."

"There are still gaps," Eric finished. Kimberly's heart sank like a stone when Ven nodded. "And this is one of them."

"Looks that way. There're other lists I can try..."

"It's Tmazacol." Eric sighed. "And I'm probably screwed."

* * *

__

TO BE CONTINUED...


	3. Why?

Why?

_Ridiculous_, thought Wes. Had to be a blow to the head that was making him think -- no, best not to even spell it out. Just go with the flow, that was what he was best at anyway. Let the situation happen and adjust, adapt, and survive. Wes was a past master at that; look, for example, at the whole Time Force thing.

"What are you so preoccupied about?" Katie came out of the small inner room where Ben had taken her to treat her arm. She flexed it, twisting the wrist this way and that.

Wes ignored her question, that being another in his broad spectrum of talents. "How's it feel?"

She shrugged and joined him on the bench in the middle of the spare room. "A little numb still, but Ben said that would pass." Katie looked around. "I have to say, considering all the futuretech he's got back there," she indicated the inner room with a jerk of her head, "this is pretty primitive."

Wes agreed. The room was not much more than a glorified cave, stone, spare and Spartan. Rock walls, dirt floor, cut deep into a cliffside. Of course the console in the corner and what looked like a holoscreen kind of threw off the whole hermit image.

Hermit. Unbidden, Eric's voice echoed in his head, overlaying another, higher, voice. _"...old Ben lives out beyond the Dune Sea. He's kind of a strange old hermit..."_

"Argh!" Wes shook his head violently and ran a hand over his face. Not possible, not possible!

Katie shot him a strange look. "Are you all right?"

Wes huffed out a breath. "Okay. Let me just ask you two things."

"Shoot."

"One, did I get hit in the head?"

Katie smiled. "Not that I know of. But then I did fall off a cliff and break my arm, so it's not like I was paying real close attention."

Wes gritted his teeth. That fit too, dammit all to hell. "Right," he managed, "so you did."

Katie was looking doubtfully at him now. Wes didn't blame her, considering. "What's the second question?" she asked.

"This desert we're in... would you call it a dune sea?" Wes concentrated. _Say no. Saynosaynosaynosaynosayno._

Katie looked out the open door of the shelter at the desert beyond. "Sure, I guess so. Maybe the edge of one, anyway. Why?"

Shit. "No reason," he croaked. "Forget I said anything."

~*~

There was a moment of stunned silence, following his statement, then Eric heard both Kimberly and Ven draw breath to ask for explanations. He beat them to the punch. "How do I know? Because whoever it was that interrogated me **told** me that's what they'd used...and it matched up to the description of tmazacol's attributes that Frank Peterson gave to me."

"Frank?" Kimberly queried.

"Who's Frank Peterson?" Ven asked.

"The person who shut the tmazacol project down," Eric answered. "Amongst other things." Kimberly swore. She'd obviously recalled what he was talking about now. "It was a research project that went...AWOL," he continued, more for Ven's benefit than anything else. "Peterson cleaned up the mess." He grimaced. "With help."

"What do you mean?" Ven asked.

Eric sighed. "Frank Peterson works -- worked -- for the US Government. I don't know exactly who for, I just know that periodically, he showed up on my doorstep asking for the Silver Guardians' help. The tmazacol project was one of those occasions."

There was a long pause. Eric thought that Ven was probably frowning. Kimberly, he knew, was probably planning something especially painful for the next time she saw Peterson. She didn't like Peterson all that much and in particular she disliked the way Peterson had tended to show up, out of the blue, needing help with something or other. _And seeing how many times things he's done has come round to bite **me** on the ass, I guess I can see her point,_ he mused wryly. This occasion had been particularly infuriating from Kimberly's point of view -- Peterson had shown up on Christmas Eve, practically demanding Eric's help. _And when I said no, he pulled the reactivation-and-declare-me-AWOL card. Way to endear yourself to your daughter-in-law when she's eight months pregnant._

"You're sure they said it was tmazacol?" Ven finally said.

"Yeah. Version beta five, is my guess."

"What makes you think you're screwed? I've never heard of this drug before."

"Because, if I know Frank, he's destroyed all the records relating to the project."

"That's not a problem," said Ven. "I've got the chemical makeup from your bloodstream -- I can..."

"Eric, what haven't you said?" Kimberly asked, cutting Ven off in mid-sentence. Damn, but she knew him well. She curled her fingers around Eric's and he welcomed the familiar warmth -- even if it did mean the next few minutes were going to be even more difficult than he'd thought. 

Eric grimaced. "I saw some of the...victims of the project. They -- people behind it -- tried out five versions of tmazacol. The first two, beta one and beta two, were pretty mild. Beta three and four killed some of their test subjects -- don't know any details."

"And beta five?" 

Eric winced at Kim's whispered query. He'd do anything not to have to tell her. This was going to hurt. "Beta five...was the worst." He hesitated, but the hand holding his tightened. No avoiding it, then. Eric took a deep breath and plunged in. "It killed all its subjects. Every one. By the time we got there, they were..." The memory of what he'd seen made his stomach roll even now. Kim's hand went still. "I'm sorry, honey," he whispered hoarsely.

"No," said Kimberly softly. "You...you can't be right."

"Eric," said Ven gently, "what makes you think this is beta five?"

He cleared his throat. "Because none of the other versions left a residue in the victims' bloodstream."

~*~

Ben was bustling around, packing what Wes could only term 'stuff' into a leather satchel. The older man looked up at them, scratching his gray beard. "Are you ready?"

Wes and Katie looked at each other. "For?"

Ben indicated the door. "To go."

"Go where?" asked Katie, getting to her feet and following him into the bright sunshine.

Wes couldn't help it. "We going to Tashi station to pick up some power converters?" he asked as they walked toward the flying dune buggy doohickey.

Ben chuckled. "No. We're going, with luck, to find a way to get you home." He paused. "Where's Tashi station?"

Katie shot Wes a look. "Maybe you did hit your head," she muttered, shouldering past him to get into the whoozis.

They skimmed along the barren landscape. "Seriously, though, Ben, how do you plan to get us home?" Wes shouted over the buzz of the engine.

"I admit it would help if I had a clear idea where exactly that is," the hermit admitted. "Or maybe the question should be when?" Katie looked at Wes, startled. Ben chuckled. "Hit a nerve, did I?" He pointed to something looming on the horizon that looked to Wes' eyes like a brown lump. "That's where we're going."

Wes squinted through the haze of heat. The lump resolved into adobe-type walls and an arched gate. He slumped back in his seat, certain he was suffering from sunstroke or heat exhaustion or something. "By God," he muttered ominously, "if there's a cantina in there with goofy music playing I am seriously going to beat Eric up the next time I see him."

The thingamabob drew to a halt just inside the arch; a uniformed guard eyeballed the trio. Not molded-plastic-clad, Wes was relieved to note. "We're looking for two---" the guard began. Wes looked expectantly at Ben. Ben looked blank. "---people who mysteriously appeared in the outer wastes earlier today," the guard went on. "Can I see your ID, please?"

Ben looked outraged. "Certainly not. Do you have any idea who I am? Let me see your badge, young man."

The guard was nonplussed. "My -- my badge?" He looked around nervously as Ben's voice rose in volume.

"...trying to pick up a few simple supplies from my local outpost, where I've been a good customer for years, I'll have you know, you young pup, and suddenly I'm treated like some sort of desperado? The magistrate here happens to be a good friend of mine. Where's your supervisor? I demand to be --"

"Okay, okay!" The guard was beet red, running a finger around the inside of his collar. "I apologize, sir. Just -- just go ahead, and next time remember to bring your identification, all right?"

Katie caught Wes' eye and hid a smile. Ben took a deep breath and started again. "Are you daring to imply that something as crucial as the proper identification papers slipped my mind? That, sir, smacks of ageism! Gerald!" 

It took Wes an astonished moment to realize Ben was talking to him. "Um... yes, dad?" Katie turned to look at the far horizon, her shoulders shaking. 

"Take this whelp's badge number, Gerald. I fully intend to register a complaint."

Wes squinted and raised his upper lip, making his chin recede. "Aw, dad..." He gave his best imitation of a whining brat. "You didn't say I was gonna haveta **do** anything. You said this was just a quick trip. I was gonna go meet up with Biggs and Wedge and go trolling for girls."

Katie had a coughing fit and had to sit down. Ben cleared his throat. "Now, son, you know what happened the last time. That awful rash has only just gone away." It was Wes' turn for a coughing fit. Ben regarded him kindly. "Now be a good lad and take the guard's badge -- well, what do you know? He's gone." Ben sat down with a grin. "Now to find a place to park this."

Panting, Katie wiped futilely at her eyes. "Ruh...ruh...rash?!" She went off in a fit of laughter again at the expression on Wes' face.

He chuckled, though he could feel a blush rising. "Yeah, yeah. Just for the record, I've never had that kind of rash, okay?"

Ben patted his shoulder. "Of course you haven't. Here we are."

They'd pulled into a small alleyway. Wes got out of the flying thingie and rested his head against the wall, staring in disbelief. A blue police box, circa London, 1950. _For crying out loud._ Was there some sort of cosmic sign over his head reading 'Kick me, I'm a geek?'

"When I wake up, I am having therapy," he muttered. Katie gave him another of those 'is that an extra head you're sporting' looks and Wes sighed. To Ben he said, "Tell me that's not a TARDIS. Please."

"Well," Ben rubbed his nose, "um, no."

"No, it's not a TARDIS?" 

"No, I can't say that."

"So you're saying it **is **a TARDIS?"

"I'm just saying I can't say it's **not** a TARDIS."

"KNOCK IT OFF!" That was Katie, getting sore. "I don't even know what the hell you two are talking about, but you're getting on my nerves!"

Ben looked at her, fingering his chin. He held out a small sack of what Wes figured was probably the local currency. "What say you two go get a drink or something while I talk to my friend here, see whether or not he can help you."

Wes watched with a feeling of resignation as the brown-cloaked figure opened the police box door and went in. Katie pursed her lips. "He's got a friend in **there**?" She shook her head. "What the heck is a TARDIS?"

Wes slanted her a look. "You know what? I think I really need that drink."

~*~

Wes balked at the entrance to the gloomy bar. "Not going in there."

Katie rolled her eyes. "You said that at the last four places. I'm hungry. Why not this time?"

Wes gave her a hunted look. "Look, I know you don't know what's happening here. I'm not really sure myself. Truthfully I'm not even sure I'm conscious. But in case I am, and in case my suspicions are correct..."

Katie folded her arms. "Spit it out, Mr. Holmes."

Wes turned mulish. "Look, I just...I'm not...how about you go in and get takeout?"

Katie frowned. "I wish I knew what you were on about, Wes. This isn't some dream, you know. We've been thrown around in time. This can't mean anything good for the people back home. We have to get back."

Her tone was reasonable in the way reasonable parents speak to a recalcitrant child. Wes got angry. "Dammit, Katie, don't you think I know that? My son's on the line, same as yours. My best friend's the one they're rescuing from who knows what levels of hell. It was my daughter who was abused by that freak Mirracon." He realized he was shouting and paused, gathering up the threads of his control. "I know where I'm needed, and it kills me that I'm not there. So don't treat me like some kid who runs with scissors, okay?"

Katie's brown eyes were sympathetic, and he knew she'd zeroed in on the part about Lexia. "Okay." 

She touched his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. "Don't," he snapped, knowing perfectly well his voice was wobbly. "Just forget I said anything." 

He was more rattled than he thought, Wes realized. It took him a few minutes to get himself back in control, resolutely squashing down his worry and guilt so he could deal with whatever it was that was happening here. Katie waited patiently, wandering a short distance away and examining the street in minute detail to give Wes the privacy he needed, bless her. By the time she walked back to him he had about half a smile on his face.

"Sorry," he said.

She gave him a light punch to the shoulder. "Forget it. Can we get some food now? I'm starved."

Wes looked at the bar again with misgiving. "Okay. I'm game. I guess."

The interior of the place was gloomy and poorly lit, filled with a zany assortment of humanity. But they **were** all humans, Wes was relieved to see. He took a seat at the bar and beckoned the bartender. 

"Do you serve food here?" he asked with his best smile. The bartender, a brutish sort who looked like he cleaned the glasses with spit and an old sock, was unimpressed. He looked Wes over, glanced at Katie with a degree more appreciation, and slammed down a platter of completely unidentifiable foodstuffs in front of them. Katie, who had been examining the money Ben had given them, counted out some coins, which seemed to satisfy the bartender. He belched in response, anyway, which, Wes conceded, was probably as friendly as he was likely to get.

Wes stared at the food for a while, but it didn't change into anything more appetizing. Katie poked at it, bemused, and scooped up some gloppy stuff on her fingers, licking them gingerly. Wes raised his brows. "How is it?"

She was clearly trying not to make a face. "Indescribable," she said thickly. "Is there a napkin?" He gave her an 'are you kidding?' look, and she giggled, swallowing. "Ugh."

Wes chuckled. "Need something to wash that down?"

Katie nodded, hiding her mouth with her hand. "Please," she said.

A semi-rhythmic series of squeaks and blats came from the corner of the room, and Wes deduced that there was a band. Apparently they'd been on a break. He idly wondered what it would take to get them to break again.

Katie poked him. "I take it this is the goofy music you were worried about?"

Wes sighed. "Probably." 

Abruptly laser fire erupted from a booth across the bar, causing a ripple of consternation among the other patrons. Wes squinted into the darkness; he could see the figure of a man, dark-haired, wearing dark pants and vest with a light shirt, looking about to see if anyone was going to make anything out of the commotion. "Oh, come off it," said Wes. 

"Do what?" said Katie, looking around.

A heavy hand fell on Wes' shoulder from behind. "Oi," said the improbably large person attached to it. "I don't like you."

Wes looked at him with wide blue eyes. "No, really? That's unusual for me. Usually I'm in demand, socially."

Bluto's thick brows drew together across his equally thick forehead. "Wot?" He curled his fist into Wes' shirtfront and lifted him into the air. "I said, I don't like you. Wot you going to do about it?"

"Erk," said Wes. 

A slim brown fist centered itself in Bluto's muzzle with a sharp report. The thug stilled, his tiny pig eyes rolling back into his head, and then his grip slowly unraveled, dropping Wes back into his seat. Bluto wavered slightly, then toppled with a crash. The other patrons of the bar stopped, turned, looked, and went back to what they were doing.

Wes grinned. "Thanks," he said to Katie.

She smiled back. "Anytime."

A brown-clad arm draped itself around Wes' shoulders. "Having fun, are we?" said Ben, helping himself to the goo on the platter. "Ugh. That's worse slop than usual. Barkeep!"

"What are you doing?" Katie hissed as Ben began to pound on the bar.

"Diversion," said Ben out of the corner of his mouth. "They're looking for you."

"They what?" said Wes, getting to his feet. 

"Evidently our friend the border guard got over his chagrin. They know you're in the city. We need a -- oh, hello there," said Ben to the bartender, who belched at him inquiringly. "Listen, friend, what is this you're trying to pass off as food? Dung?"

Wes mentally counted while the bartender processed Ben's insult. Ben checked his fingernails. Wes got to thirty-seven.

"Mmmmmggrrrrraaaaagh!" said the bartender, feelingly, and hauled Ben over the bar, tossing him across the room. The hermit hit the far wall, shattering two light fixtures and denting the stucco before dropping loudly onto the table of the guy Wes had noticed earlier. The one who shot the other guy. Wes pursed his lips. This was probably not ideal.

He had little time to meditate on it, however, before the irate bartender grasped him under the arms and lifted him overhead. "Hey! What the...you...I didn't...don't..." Wes managed, kicking his legs in midair. This maneuver proved ineffective, and Wes found himself on top of Ben in short order. 

"Oof," said his companion, and Wes had to agree. He rolled off the older man and staggered toward Katie, who was holding the bartender up in the air with one hand.

"You guys okay?" she shouted. Wes nodded, waving a hand at her while bent double, his hands on his knees. 

"Diversion, huh?" he said to Ben. The guy with the vest gave them both a look, tilted his head as though listening, and then sprinted for the shadowy back of the bar just as the front door blew open and troops, (yep, plastic-clad ones) began pouring into the room.

In short order they had Katie surrounded, blasters at the ready. "Oops," said Ben, dragging Wes under the table. 

"Leggo!" whispered Wes, wrestling briefly with the older man. "I've got to get to Katie!"

Ben shook him. "Listen to me! They want you both! If you go rushing out there you'll both end up dead."

"I'm not leaving her!"

"That is exactly what you're going to do, at least for now. We're going to need help to get her back." Ben stared hard at him.

There was something in the older man's eyes that made Wes agree, albeit reluctantly, and the two of them crawled through the melee to the back door, which opened onto an alleyway not unlike the one where they'd parked the whatsis. Ben seemed to know where he was going, though, and Wes followed him as he hurried through a maze of back streets and foul-smelling alleys.

There was a figure bent over the engine of the thingamabob, and the engine was sputtering to life. Ben strode forward and pulled the blaster from the figure's belt and held it to his head. "I believe you've got the wrong vehicle, there, son," he said mildly.

The figure straightened. It was the guy from the bar, who smiled sheepishly. "Heh," he said. "My mistake."

"You bet it was," said Wes, feeling oddly like Robin to Ben's Batman.

Ben leaned a hip on his doohickey, the muzzle of the blaster never wavering. "Going anywhere in particular?"

The man's eye's narrowed. "What's it to you?"

Ben looked at the man for a moment longer, then flipped the blaster around and handed it back. "It occurs to me we're in the same sort of fix," he said. "You ran from the guards. It so happens we'd like to avoid a run-in with them too. Maybe we can help each other."

The guy snorted. "I don't think so, old man," he said. "Now why don't you and Junior here get out of my way?"

_Junior?_ Wes was torn between feeling insulted and complimented. The guy had to be in his thirties, tops. 

Ben looked at the man as he tried to shoulder his way past. "Fine," he said. "Since you aren't interested in exorbitant compensation, we'll find someone who is."

The guy froze. "Did you say exorbitant...?"

"Compensation, yes. So you are interested, then?" The sounds of shouting and running feet echoed through the alleyway. Wes had to hand it to him: Ben seemed perfectly composed.

"All right, old man." The guy grinned and gestured toward the whoozie. "You've got yourself a deal." Ben got in; Wes made to get in next to him but the guy jerked his thumb toward the back seat. "I'll drive," he growled.

"Let me guess," said Wes acidly. "Han Solo, right?"

The guy gave him a look over his shoulder. "That pass for a name where you're from, Junior?" He snorted. "My name's Zordon. Now shut up and let me drive."

* * *

__

TO BE CONTINUED...


	4. When?

When?

Lucas sat back in his seat, shaking his head. Just when things didn't look as if they could get worse, they usually did. And in this case, they'd been starting out from dire straits in the first place...

"What do you want to do?" Kerin asked, sounding almost polite.

Lucas glanced at Hawking. "You think you can break through this interference from TFHQ?" Hawking nodded. "And you," Lucas continued now meeting Kerin's gaze via the comm. connection, "can guarantee safety?"

"It's in my own best interests to make sure of that," said Kerin.

"Then," said Lucas, "Hawking will be on his way to Central City in an hour's time. Sorry, doc," he added.

Hawking shook his head. "Nothing to be sorry about, Lucas. I've pulled long shifts before, when necessary. And right now, it's necessary."

"Anything else?" Kerin wanted to know.

Lucas thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. Have Dr Alicia Roberts standing by. We caught the 'culprit' here, except he may be more victim than villain. I was going to contact Alicia myself, but..."

"If you're already sending one person back to Central City, might as well make it a party," Kerin agreed.

Lucas nodded again. "As far as other action goes, I shall be authorising a party to investigate the TOI facility where Captain Myers was rescued from yesterday."

"You can't possibly hope to find anything left there now!" Kerin objected. "We both agree that The Master is probably long gone."

"It's the only lead we have," Lucas countered. "Unless you've found anything in Central City this morning?"

"You know damn well I haven't," Kerin snorted. 

"I will, naturally," Lucas added, "report any and all findings to you as soon as I have them -- as you say, we have to work together on this."

Kerin shot Lucas a venom-filled glare. "Fine, fine. Have your scouting mission."

"I'll keep you updated, Director. Kendall out." Lucas flicked the comm. terminal off and groaned. "This really was all we were missing to make this a full blown crisis."

"I shouldn't speak too soon, Lucas," Hawking advised. "Something tells me more trouble's just walked in."

"Huh...?" Lucas looked round to see the trio of Vengeance Rangers standing in the doorway looking grim. "Do I want to hear this, Alice?"

"You said you were sending someone to the TOI," she said. "We want it to be us."

Lucas' eyebrows lifted. "You do?"

"It's our parents who're missing," said Rick.

"It's something that we can do to help," put in Namir.

"Besides," Alice finished. "Who else have you got?" 

~*~

Wes studied the stranger, trying to figure out if he'd heard right. _Zordon, huh?_ This sure wasn't how Tommy or Jason had described him. No sign of a big white head in a tube anywhere. Dark hair falling in his eyes, blue eyes, a general bad boy aura that made Wes devoutly glad Lexia was nowhere nearby... He didn't look like Harrison Ford, but then he wouldn't, not if this was real.

After all, Wes didn't look much like Mark Hamill either.

He folded his arms across his chest as the whoozis sped across the sand. "So where are we going, exactly?"

"To get my ship," Zordon tossed back at him. "This thing's okay for a sprint, but if those goons really decide to come after you, we're gonna need some real power under us."

Wes pursed his lips. _Ol' Zordon here sure has the Han Solo attitude right._ Hopefully his ship would be in better shape than the Millenium Falcon. He slumped in his seat. Wasn't like they had a choice. They had to get Katie back.

A scene from the movie came to him: Leia cowering back from a floating torture device with a big needle sticking out of it... "Dammit!" he shouted, startling Ben. "Can't this thing move any faster?"

~*~

Al leaned on the roof railing and looked down at the landing pad. He felt singularly useless. Alan Drake was a civilian cargo runner. A good pilot. A husband and father. It was enough in normal life. But this wasn't normal life any more, and the skin that made up Alan Drake felt like a straight-jacket.

Katie was missing, and he was doing nothing to help find her -- because there was nothing for Alan Drake to be doing.

He slammed a fist down on the railing. He could contribute. He had ten years' experience in Time Force as an investigator. He'd led complex investigations. He'd busted criminals -- hell, he'd taken down Ransik once! And none of that counted any more. Because the man who'd done those deeds was officially dead. And worse, he'd promised the very person who was missing now that Alex Collins would stay dead. He pounded the railing again, feeling the blow jar the bones in his hand.

"Breaking your hand's not going to help."

Al glanced round to see Rob looking at him dispassionately. "Not like I can do anything else."

"Tell Lucas the truth," Rob retorted. "You need to be helping find Katie; he needs Alex Collins, interrogator extraordinaire to wring the truth out of Carmen."

"Put me in the same room as Carmen and I'll kill him," Al warned.

"No you won't."

Al rounded on Rob. "Don't try and tell me what I would or wouldn't do because you don't know."

"You won't," Rob repeated. "Because as angry and frustrated as you are, you know -- somewhere in that thick head of yours -- that we need Carmen to nail these bastards."

Al snarled and turned back to the view.

"So are you going to tell Lucas?"

"I can't."

"Bullshit."

"I can't." Again, he swung round to face Rob. "Don't you get it? Alex Collins was a -- a creep. A cold blooded, manipulative bastard..."

"...who helped to make the place safe for kids, puppies and Christmas because he could take the hard decisions, and stand up for them," Rob finished. "Or did you forget the blood, sweat and tears you put in to being a Time Force officer? A **good **one, at that." Quieter, Rob added, "And if Alex Collins was as dislikeable as all that, why would Ven and I have stuck around as long as we have done? Neither of us are masochists."

Al felt his anger drain away, leaving behind a sense of depression. "I don't want to do this."

"No," Rob agreed. "One word why you have to: Katie."

"I know." Al sighed. "You're right. As usual. I should go find Lucas and hope he doesn't decide to kick my ass first and ask questions later."

"Now why would I want to do that?"

~*~

In lieu of a better idea, seeing as Eric knew very few details of the actual drug beyond what he'd felt under its influence and what he'd seen in the victims, Ven had put Eric through a complete body scan in the hopes of finding out what the tmazacol was doing and finding some way to counter act it. She now looked at the results with a sinking feeling in her stomach. _Not again._

"Ven?" Kimberly's soft query drew Ven's attention from the results and the memories that were threatening again.

Ven sighed. She looked through the office window into the main medi-centre. Eric was sitting on the bio-bed. Apart from his eyes, he looked almost perfectly healthy -- a little gaunt, but otherwise OK. "It's bad." She met Kimberly's gaze. "As things stand, Eric has maybe two to three days." And that was being optimistic.

Kimberly looked ashen. "Two days?"

"As things stand." 

"You can stop this?"

Ven swallowed. "I don't know," she admitted. "The tmazacol is steadily destroying Eric's entire nervous system. On a limited basis, I could mend the damage, but as fast as I healed one area of damage, another area would probably hit critical. I could keep him alive..."

"But it wouldn't be a life," Kimberly finished dully.

"No. And as a doctor, I don't think I could condone taking that course of action."

"You can't just let him die!" Kimberly whispered.

__

Particularly not knowing the sort of hideous death this would be, Ven agreed silently. "I've got a day, Kim. That's before this gets to the point where the only thing I'll realistically be able to do is take mercy on him. I'm not gonna quit on this." _I'm gonna make sure you don't have to see Eric like I had to see Martin._

~*~

Eric sighed. Kimberly and Ven were, he suspected, discussing the results of the scan. Given that Kimberly hadn't returned to berate him for giving her a heart attack, he presumed the scan results weren't good. The worst thing about his present situation was the perpetual darkness gave his mind plenty of scope for dredging up what he'd seen when he'd helped to shut down the tmazacol project.

The bodies of the beta five victims had been one of the worst things he'd ever seen -- and considering that he'd served eight years in the USMC and had spent a further ten years as a Silver Guardian, dealing with the decidedly weird and potentially gruesome, that really was saying something. The bodies, four of them, had been bloated and swollen -- a couple of them were so badly bloated, the skin had started to split, leaving a bloody ichor to ooze out. It had looked -- to Eric, at least -- as if their bodies had been slowly liquefied from inside to out; something that had to have been both excruciatingly painful and lingering.

__

Even if we'd got there quicker, there wouldn't have been anything we could do, he noted. _Is that the same now?_

A knock on the door frame of the medi-centre pulled Eric from his thoughts.

"Hey dad." Alice. 

Eric had a sudden thought. If he really was as completely screwed as the poor bastards he'd seen in that lab complex there was no way he wanted Alice to see it. He didn't want Kimberly to see it either, but he had a feeling that trying to keep her out of things wasn't going to happen. _Need to talk to Ven..._

"Dad? What's wrong?"

__

Shit. "Nothing, honey. Did you want me for something?"

"And mom 'n' Ven -- Lucas' got some news."

"I'm not sure where mom and Ven are," Eric admitted. "Other than being around here some place." He sighed. "They should be back any second -- you might as well take a chair from the stack over there and take the load off." He inclined his head in the direction he thought the chair stack was probably in -- and was rewarded by a gasp of surprise from Alice.

"How did you...?"

"Observation," he answered, smiling a little, even as he heard her move through the room to grab a chair from the stack. "That plus experience."

"So how many times **have** you been in hospital since I've known you?" Alice teased.

"This is the fourth." Eric frowned. "You know, out of a ten year period, that's actually not as many as I figured."

"It's probably four more than most people's dads."

"Most people's dads don't work as a Silver Guardian."

"Rick's dad is a Silver Guardian..." But Alice trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"You said Lucas has news," Eric pointed out. "How's Rick doing?"

He heard Alice heave a sigh. "Mostly OK. He's antsy to get back to the TOI and pull apart the computer system there."

"You really think you'll find anything?"

"Who knows," she replied with a groan. "But it's better to be doing stuff than not."

"You never **could** sit still," said Eric dispassionately.

Alice snorted inelegantly. "Hello pot, I'm kettle. I still remember mom having to hide your crutches."

Eric opened his mouth to refute the charge, then realised that Alice's point was probably valid. He sighed instead. "You've got an indecently long memory."

"Not that long," said Alice quietly. "Besides, gaining you as a dad was the single best thing to happen to me. Don't think I'll ever be able to forget it."

~*~

Lucas watched as both Al and Rob jumped. Neither of them had seen or heard him come out onto the roof. Al, particularly, looked almost comically aghast. He bit back a smile. "What are you expecting me to kick your ass over, Al?" he repeated.

After an electric pause, Al finally managed, "I can help you with Carmen's interrogation."

"You can?" Lucas enquired, now truly struggling to keep a straight face.

"I...my name wasn't always Alan Drake."

Lucas decided to put Al out of his misery. "I know." Al's jaw flapped open, leaving him to closely resemble a stranded fish. Lucas dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand to try and remain straight faced. "Ignoring the fact that a supposedly civilian cargo runner knows a heck of a lot about Time Force procedure -- and about my job in particular," Al turned puce, "I figured it out when I first met you."

"You didn't say anything."

Lucas offered a shrug. "Should I have done? I had a pretty good idea why you'd done it -- though the how still puzzles me, given Wes, Cole, Taylor and Ben were very clear on what they'd seen." From the way Rob twitched at that, Lucas guessed he had been involved with the 'how'.

"Oh."

"So no ass kicking on my part -- unless you changed your mind about helping to interrogate Carmen. If that happens, all bets are off."

Al shook his head. "It's about the only thing I can contribute right now."

Lucas nodded. "Thank you." Al nodded back, more or less his right shade now. "And on a not unrelated note, I've got a situation update." Al's expression changed. Lucas couldn't help but notice the surge of hope and wished he wasn't about to burst the bubble. "It's not good."

~*~

There was a long pause in the conversation. Alice studied her hands, trying to find the words for what else she needed to say. She sighed. "Dad, can I talk to you?"

"You're doing good so far on that front," Eric joked.

Alice stuck her tongue out at him and rolled her eyes. "I meant seriously."

He smiled faintly in response, probably guessing her reaction. "What's up?"

__

Just take the plunge, Ali -- get it said. "We...haven't really talked...since...um...since Frax...kidnapped me. Us." Alice swallowed. _You can do this._ "I -- I know things have been busy...and...everything, but...you -- you do know...I didn't mean what I said?"

"What you said?" he echoed, sounding and looking puzzled.

"The night before...after the Cyclobots tried to kill me," Alice explained, grateful he couldn't see her blush. "I...said stuff I shouldn't."

"Oh. That."

"Yeah." Alice's blush deepened.

"Honey, I knew you didn't mean it when you said it. You were hurt...confused..."

"That's no excuse."

Eric smiled, though there was little humour behind it. "Ali, it might not seem like one to you, but trust me, it's every excuse. Everyone says stuff they don't mean when they're upset -- and you certainly had every right to be upset. The person who'd promised he'd never hurt you'd that way'd very nearly..." He swallowed. "Very nearly killed you..."

"But you didn't mean it!" Alice cut in. "I realised that on the...Saturday morning..." But she trailed off. That Saturday morning **had** been far calmer and far less fraught. Which, she supposed, was the point Eric was trying to make. "Oh."

"Give yourself a break," Eric advised.

"Yeah. I'll try...no," she added, before Eric could open his mouth, "don't say it." 

A smile quirked across Eric's face. "Say what? Do or do not, there..."

Alice swatted him on the arm. "That." He chuckled. "You can be so irritating sometimes."

"Only sometimes? Must be losing my touch."

Alice smiled. She hadn't heard him joke like this since Frax had shown up -- it was a good sound. She stood up and wrapped her arms around his neck in a bear hug. "I am sorry, though. I know what I said must have hurt..."

"It did," he admitted quietly, humour leaving his tone again. "But I understood."

"Did that make it hurt any less?" Eric said nothing and Alice knew what that meant. She'd **really** hurt him. "Dad, I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Hey -- none of that. You think you have a monopoly on saying stupid or hurtful things in the heat of the moment?" Alice's only response was an incoherent sniff. "Because if you do, when you find Wes and Katie, you might find it interesting to ask them about a particular pain in the ass they had to deal with when Ransik was in Silverhills who regularly said incredibly dumb stuff...and nearly got himself killed doing it, too."

"Who was that?" Alice asked.

"Me." 

Alice frowned. He couldn't possibly mean that! "You?!"

"Me." 

Alice pulled away, trying desperately not to giggle. The idea of Eric being anything like that was just too weird. "Sorry, dad," she tried and the contained laughter burst out.

Eric smiled. "Don't believe me, huh?"

"Well -- no."

"Don't believe what?" asked a new voice.

Alice looked over her shoulder to see Kimberly and Ven both looking faintly bemused. It had been Ven who'd spoken. "That dad was a pain in the ass," Alice explained as best she could for her continuing giggles. 

"I see," said Kimberly, shaking her head.

Finally getting control over her laughter, Alice continued, "Lucas wants to have a meeting ASAP -- he's got news."

Somewhat to Alice's surprise, Ven and Kimberly exchanged glances. _What's up with that?_ Alice wondered. 

"You and Alice go on," Ven advised. "Eric and I will follow in just a second -- I need to take one more reading."

Kimberly nodded. "I understand."

Inwardly, Alice winced. The remnants of her amusement died a death. The expression on Kimberly's face, combined with the tone of voice told her there was something serious up. Glancing at Ven, Alice felt her heart sink. It couldn't be...

"Ali?" Kimberly was looking at her.

She looked from Kimberly to Eric to Ven and back. "OK. I want to know what's going on and I want to know now," she said quietly.

"Honey..." Eric began in a tone of voice which told Alice whatever this was, he didn't want her to know.

"Alice, we'll talk later," said Kimberly firmly.

"When is later, mom?" Alice asked. "I'm not a kid any more." She sighed. "I don't need to be protected -- and if it's bad news...and I think it has to be, I want to know **now**." 

There was a long, long moment of silence.

"The drugs...one of the drugs...they had me on is making me sick," Eric finally said quietly.

"How sick?" Alice asked, though the looks on her parents' faces gave her some clue.

"Very."

And even despite having the warning, Alice felt as if the bottom of her stomach had just dropped out.

"It's not all lost yet," said Ven. "There are things I can do -- things I can try."

Alice wanted to take hope from Ven's words, but the expression on her mother's face and the slump of her father's shoulders told another story. _No..._

~*~

Katie groaned, sitting up slowly. Where was she?

Oh. The bar fight. Right. At least Wes had gotten away; she'd made sure the guards were busy enough so they'd have no opportunity to worry about him.

And then they'd tried to shackle her. Katie grinned. She'd laugh, only her head was pounding. In the end she supposed they'd had to knock her out.

So the question remained: how long had she been out and where was she? She wasn't afraid; Wes would come after her. Unless, of course, he had no idea where to look.

Katie looked around. It was a small cell, all smooth surfaces, nothing that could be turned into a weapon. She swung her legs off the bench where she'd lain and walked around, pacing it off. There was a vague sense of movement under her feet, a slight vibration. They were still underway. But to where?

The door slid open suddenly, admitting a black-clad, helmeted figure and a -- what the hell was that thing? 

The man in black approached menacingly, the device floating nearer. Katie could make a pretty shrewd guess as to its function. "I can't tell you anything," she protested. Which was the truth, as she actually knew nothing that could possibly be of interest here -- not even where 'here' was.

The black-clad figure removed his helmet. "On the contrary, I rather think you can."

Katie reared back with a hiss. It couldn't be. "Ransik?!"

* * *

__

TO BE CONTINUED...


	5. What?

What?

Wes couldn't help it. "What a piece of junk!" he said, hands on hips. 

Zordon bridled. "This is the fastest landship in the quadrant, Junior. She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts." He patted the worn and pitted metal siding of the landship. It looked like a glorified version of the smaller whatsit Ben had provided, only in much worse shape. Wes snorted.

Ben nodded. "We'll take your word for it. I think we should go, and go quickly, however. This is a public hangar, after all." As if to prove him right, the sounds of a commotion echoed down the narrow companionway to the hangar in which they stood.

"Right." Zordon pulled open the hatch of the ship and motioned the others in. He closed the hatch behind them and shoved past them toward the front of the small craft. Wes, following, was surprised to see a pair of boots propped up on what was presumably the controls console.

"What's the matter? Took too long to get drunk?" inquired a female voice. The boots came down; the copilot's seat swiveled around to reveal a young woman, dark haired and pretty.

"Hello to you too, Dimi," growled Zordon. "Just get ready to go, willya?"

She nodded toward Wes and Ben. "Who are they?"

Zordon shot her a look. "What is it with you and the questions? Get moving!"

Dimi raised a hand to forestall further complaints and bent over the control panel. "Are we paid up?" she asked Zordon, eyes on the hangar door, which was closed.

Zordon made an 'are you kidding' sort of noise, and Dimi shrugged. "Everyone buckled up?" she tossed over her shoulder.

Wes grabbed Ben with one arm and a handy strut with another as Dimi opened fire on the hangar bay door, incinerating it. The ship shot through the opening and they were speeding across the desert before Wes had time to process the information. Zordon shot him a smug look. Wes grinned. "Not bad," he acknowledged.

Zordon grinned. "The engine's my own design, that and the weapons array. After my next -- I mean when I get some more credits I'm gonna do up her hull real nice, maybe have her look like something big. Impressive, you know? Like -- like a dinosaur or something. Whaddaya think?"

Wes rubbed his nose. "Good idea," he said, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter.

"Yeah," said Zordon, satisfied with Wes' noncommittal tone. He spread his hands wide. "Gonna make a whole army. Call 'em Zords."

"Great," said Wes. "This ship have a head?" He had to get out of there before he disgraced himself, or called his sanity into question.

"At the rear," said Zordon, waving his hand in the general direction. "Okay, Pops, where are we headed?"

As Wes headed aft he heard Ben over his shoulder. "Tyr Tantalis Prime, I expect," the older man said.

Wes sat on the can, his head in his hands. What the hell was going on? No sooner did he feel like he had the rhythm of the situation down -- based, he freely admitted, on a movie he'd seen far too many times, thanks to Eric -- than everything took a sharp left into bizarre. _Bizarre-er,_ he mentally amended. He sighed. This Chewbacca was definitely easier on the eyes, at least. 

With a boy-stood-on-the-burning-deck sort of feeling, Wes squared his shoulders and headed back to the bridge.

Ben and Zordon were arguing. "...never said we were gonna drive straight into the enemy camp!" the younger man was hollering.

"You didn't ask," said Ben, unruffled. Wes really had to admire that guy. Talk about cool under fire.

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask if you were insane either, but obviously I should have!" Zordon shot back.

Dimi was watching the two, her head swiveling like a spectator at Wimbledon. She caught Wes' eye and, to his astonishment, winked. "What's the problem, 'Don?" she broke in.

"You heard him! 'Tyr Tantalis Prime' he says! He's either nuts or suicidal, and I'm not betting on either." Zordon threw up his hands, clearly frustrated.

"Did he hire us?"

Zordon ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah," he muttered resentfully.

Dimi nodded. "And you agreed to his terms?"

"Yeah." Zordon blew out a breath. "Yeah. Okay, okay. So we go to Tyr Tantalis Prime, and we all get killed. Everybody's happy."

Dimi caught Wes' eye again and he could swear she flashed him a grin before turning back to the control console.

"Okay. All right," Zordon muttered, fiddling with his own set of controls. He turned to Ben suddenly, poking a finger at the older man's chest. "But **your** definition of exorbitant had better fit **my** definition of exorbitant, or somebody's gonna get it."

Ben patted him on the shoulder kindly. "Mine exceeds yours, I'm sure. Don't worry about it, my boy."

"Worry? Who's worried?" But Wes noticed Zordon eyed Ben pretty closely, for all his bravado.

~*~

As Alice walked into Ops, Rick felt a surge of anxiety. She looked as close to tears as he'd ever seen her. Paired with the closed expression on Kimberly's face and Rick found himself putting two and two together. _Something's wrong with Eric. That just isn't fair..._

Alice took up the seat next to him. Unobtrusively, he sought her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Want to talk?" he offered quietly.

Alice shook her head. "Maybe later."

Given that Lucas, Al and Rob walked in at that moment, Rick couldn't argue. A moment later and Hawking, who looked exhausted, and Namir entered the room.

"Are Ven and Eric coming?" Lucas asked as Hawking sat. Kimberly shook her head. Lucas' expression darkened. "I understand. In that case, we'll get under way." There was a pause, presumably while Lucas gathered his thoughts. "There's good news and there's bad news," he began. "Bad news first: We haven't been able to find Wes and Katie; Hawking," and he nodded to the temporal analyst, "has detected some form of temporal jamming. So someone doesn't want us to find them -- at least, not yet."

"The jamming's crackable," Hawking put in. "But only with the high powered scanners available at TFHQ."

"Shit," muttered Al.

"That," said Lucas, "is actually some of the good news. Director Kerin has offered to...ah...bury the hatchet -- and I don't mean in my head -- on a temporary basis, which means that when this meeting gets done, Hawking and I will be on our way back to Central City."

"What's bitten Kerin?" Rob wanted to know.

"This would be the more bad news," Namir judged.

"Short form," said Lucas, "there was a break out from MAX at about the same time last night as Wes and Katie were abducted."

"MAX?" queried Kimberly. "What's MAX?"

"The maximum security jail just off the northern tip of the Russia, in the Bearing Sea," Lucas explained. "It's where the real nut jobs and hard cases get put -- and after the TOI, it's probably the most secure corrections institute planet side." Lucas smiled faintly. "More secure than the TOI in fact, seeing as it doesn't have a waste disposal pipe someone determined enough could crawl up." That provoked a small chuckle from those around the table. "It's not the place you escape from solo, so the escapee had help."

"Who escaped?" Rob asked.

Lucas offered up a wry smile. "Take a wild guess."

"Ransik," said Al quietly.

"How?" asked Kimberly even as Lucas was nodding.

"Kerin didn't seem to know," said Hawking. "Considering his department is effectively down to him and his aide, can't really say I blame the chap."

"That's the other thing we -- or, rather, I hope to establish while I'm in Central City," said Lucas. "Meantime," he continued, "Alice, Rick and Namir are -- with Kerin's cooperation -- going back to the TOI."

"You expect to find anything?" Kimberly queried.

Rick glanced at Alice to see if she was going to answer, but her mind was clearly on other things. He shrugged. "Won't know until we get there -- but it's got to be worth a shot."

Lucas nodded. "Exactly. And it's the best lead we've got right now." Kimberly subsided. "Also coming back to Central City -- Al and Rob. We're -- you're," he corrected himself, "going to be taking Carmen to see Alicia Roberts prior to interrogation."

Nods met that statement from both Rob and Al -- though Al looked less than enthusiastic about the prospect. _Probably the thought of spending time with Carmen,_ Rick decided.

"Kim, I know you're not going to want to go anywhere from here," Lucas continued. Kimberly gave him a look that said 'no shit, Sherlock'. "Can you keep an eye on the comm. terminal in here? We'll all be reporting back here..."

"Comm. control. Got it." Kimberly gave a terse sort of smile.

Lucas stood up. "Let's get this show on the road."

~*~

Katie got to her feet, ignoring the sinister-looking device. "You just don't know when to stay down, do you, Ransik?" she snarled, her hands curling into fists.

He smirked. "And you don't know when you're beaten. Typical." Ransik took a sudden step forward and shoved Katie to the bench. Snakelike metal tentacles slithered from the walls and wrapped themselves around her, holding her there. "That ought to dispose of that misplaced might of yours rather neatly."

"What are you doing here?" she growled through clenched teeth.

Ransik gave a chuckle. "You don't even know when we are, do you?" Katie just glared, unwilling to give him even that much. Ransik laughed outright. "I must say, I really do admire the Master. He has such a piquant way of treating a situation."

"The Master, huh?" Katie managed a derisive snort. Not particularly effective, maybe, given her current situation, but it made her feel better. "I knew you couldn't have made it out of MAX on your own. You're not smart enough."

He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on the restraints that held her. "Nor are you, my dear."

Katie struggled; the tentacles tightened. "All right, Ransik, since you're burning to tell me, when are we?"

He calmly began cleaning his fingernails on a protruding corner of the floating torture device. "Roughly 10,000 BC, as the crow flies. It's an interesting time, don't you think?"

Katie snorted again. "That's ridiculous. There were no civilizations this advanced at that time in Earth's history."

Ransik grinned and pushed a button. "Of course there were, Katie my dear. You have the evidence before you. It's not healthy to deny what's right before your eyes." He chuckled again. "Time has a way of turning most history into legend. You might call it 'Earth's hidden history'. Gone, as you might say, but not entirely forgotten."

Katie's mind ticked over rapidly. Was it possible?

A communicator on Ransik's wrist crackled. "My lord, we approach Tyr Tantalis Prime."

"Acknowledged." Ransik's eyes narrowed. "And here I've been wasting all this time. Fun's fun, my dear, but I've work to do. You don't mind if I get on with it, do you?"

Katie found, as the needle sank into her skin, that she very much did.

~*~

Eric heard Kimberly and Alice's footsteps fade from the hallway.

"Do you really have another reading to make?" he asked quietly.

"No." He heard Ven sigh. "The scan I've done has identified the damage and given me a prognosis."

"How bad?"

"Twenty-four hours, realistically," Ven answered. "Thirty-six if you're lucky."

Eric shivered. "That quick."

"It's systematically destroying your nervous system, Eric," she explained. "Your sight is so far the only thing to firmly go, but there's extensive damage to the whole rest of your nervous system. With that level of impairment..."

"It's going to turn me into a vegetable."

"If I can't find a way to reverse the damage in total and purge your body of the toxins, yes."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Eric, I'm not giving up on this -- on you," said Ven softly. "If there is a way to beat this, I'm going to find it."

"I know."

"I can't guarantee how this is going to go," she continued.

"It's messy," Eric said. "I've seen the victims, remember?" He swallowed. "If...if you can't find a way to beat this..."

"I won't leave you to die in pain, Eric," Ven promised.

~*~

"I have the jamming signals set up for Tantalis Gamma and Beta," came a tinny voice from behind Wes, who went into immediate cardiac arrest as a small robot bustled past importantly. "And a flight plan for avoiding checkpoints at Epsilon and Delta. But I still think this is a bad idea."

Wes stared at the robot, willing his erratic pulse to slow. It was small, about half man-size, and had a head like a football. "R2D2, I presume?" he muttered, subsiding as Ben gave him 'the look'.

The robot gave the impression of having raised an interrogative eyebrow. _Impressive,_ Wes thought, considering it had neither eyes nor brows. "My designation is Alpha 5."

"Wes Collins," said Wes, feeling like an idiot for introducing himself to a robot.

"You may call me Ben," said Ben, all but patting the 'bot on the head.

Alpha tilted that appendage. "But that is not your name."

Ben looked less patronizing and more nervous. "True," he admitted.

"Coming up on the gate at Gamma, Alpha," barked Zordon. "Stop fooling around and jam it!"

"Ai-yi-yi!" cried the robot. Zordon reached out a fist and thumped Alpha sharply on the head. "Sorry," the little 'bot said. "Jamming."

Dimi spoke up. "You still haven't gotten rid of the virus?" she asked.

They passed the gate, a largish structure that towered over the river it spanned. This was the fifth river they'd crossed, Wes thought, or was it the sixth? For a desert, there sure seemed to be a lot of water about.

But on further inspection of the landscape, the desert had given way to savannah. That in turn was being slowly replaced by meadow as they got closer to their destination. River, plain, river, plain... this reminded Wes of something, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He sort of got the impression he didn't really want to put his finger on it, particularly.

"What virus?" he asked, more to distract himself than anything else.

"A little worm called Nacixem," Zordon said shortly. "I got rid of most of it, but that 'ai-yi-yi' thing just keeps replicating itself on a new circuit every time I purge."

"Irritating," said Wes.

"You don't know the half of it," agreed Zordon. "Coming up on Beta, Alpha, and if you ai-yi at me I am gonna fry your hard drive."

Alpha did what Wes assumed to be the robot equivalent of clearing his throat. "Jamming," was all the little 'bot said.

They sped past miles more of placid terrain, then Zordon pulled the craft to a halt. "Okay, Gramps. The next bit is tricky, so if you have any fancy-schmancy ideas, now's the time to trot 'em out."

Clarification seemed to be in order. "What do you mean by 'tricky', exactly?"

Zordon snorted. "Are you kidding me? Tantalis Prime is sewed up tighter than Dimi's -- ah," this as Dimi stretched out one graceful leg and poised her foot over his groin with a considering expression on her pretty face, " -- hem, the security's pretty tight, kid. Gonna take some kind of miracle to get us in there."

The craft shuddered and started to move. "What the hell?" said Dimi, her hands racing over the console.

"Tractor beam," Zordon snapped. "Do something, Dimi!"

She shot him a look. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Wes looked through the viewscreen: they were indeed being pulled inexorably toward what looked like another checkpoint arching across another river. _What's this one, number nine? Bizarre._ He said as much.

"Not rivers," supplied Alpha in his tinny voice. "Concentric moats. Tyr Tantalis Prime is in the center, raised above the rest for optimum defensive capability."

Bells went off. "Is some part of this place open to the sea?" asked Wes impulsively.

Alpha nodded his football head. "The far side from our position, beyond Kappa gate."

Now he knew why he found it all so vaguely familiar. He'd seen a million quasi-literate documentaries on cable about it. Jen was fascinated by the things, and Wes generally watched along for company. A lost civilization, before the dawn of written history, more advanced than modern man dreamed. Nine concentric moats alternating with nine concentric plains, a single opening to the sea; all surrounding the raised walled city.

Not Tantalis.

Atlantis.

_Oh Crap._

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	6. How?

How?

Director Kerin and Alicia Roberts were both waiting on the landing pad as Al brought the transport in to land, Lucas noted. Kerin looked as if he'd swallowed the contents of a lemon juice bottle. _Guess that's not so surprising,_ Lucas mused. _He knows that what's happened in the last forty-eight hours has made him look like a complete idiot._

"Kendall," Kerin greeted coldly as Lucas exited the transport. "Dr Roberts is here as per request."

"Thank you. Good to see you, Alicia," Lucas added, smiling at the memory expert.

"And you, Lucas. Who's my patient?"

"Joshua Carmen," said Rob, leading Carmen out of the transport.

Alicia looked somewhat surprised. "Must be quite an explanation in there somewhere."

"That's what I'm thinking," agreed Lucas. "You remember Rob Logan?"

"Certainly do," Alicia agreed smiling. "One of the terrible trio."

"Not so terrible these days, 'Licia," Rob retorted, smiling.

"Yes, well this is all very nice," muttered Kerin, "but need I remind you we have a dangerous criminal on the run?"

Lucas sighed. This was going to be a very uneasy partnership. "Alicia -- I'll leave Rob to explain what's up. Dr Hawking, shall we?"

Hawking, who had followed Rob and Carmen from the transport nodded. "Lead on, Lucas."

~*~

For the second time in as many days, Alice found herself lying amongst the gorse bushes on the crest of one of the hills that ringed the TOI compound. This time, though, she wasn't actively looking for a way in.

"What's it look like, Ali?" Rick asked.

"All quiet."

"Is that good or bad?" Namir wondered.

Alice shrugged. "You tell me." She wriggled backwards off the crest of the hill. "Life-sign scans say there are people in there; I don't see any signs of them."

"So, oh fearless leader," Rick began, "what now?"

"Keep the fearless leader shit up and you'll be going in via the sewer, unmorphed," Alice retorted.

Rick opened his mouth to say something but Namir got in first. "Whoa -- ease up, Ali. We're on the same side."

"Ali -- are you OK?" Rick asked softly.

_Dad's slipping away from me and I can't stop it._ Alice swallowed the words before she could voice them. _"When you're in charge, you don't get to have 'other things' on your mind,"_ Eric had once said, and looking at Rick and Namir, she could see the truth of his words. If she didn't get her act together, they would be distracted -- and that would get them hurt. Or worse. She swallowed. _Time to be leader. Time to make sure Wes and Katie don't end up like dad._

She met Rick's gaze and nodded. "I'll be OK. Sorry for snapping." Rick smiled in understanding. "Right now, I guess we go knock, real loud. See if anyone's home."

~*~

Zordon was cursing a blue streak, his hands flying over his control panel. "Alpha! Can you do anything to break the tractor beam?"

"Ai-yi---"

Zordon whirled on the little 'bot, pointing at him as if his finger was a weapon. "Don't," he snarled. "Just say no."

"Erm, ah, no. Sorry, 'Don," Alpha replied, all his little lights blinking furiously.

"Anybody got any bright ideas?" barked Zordon to the company at large.

Wes cleared his throat self-consciously. "How about we hide in the secret compartments where you hide your undeclared goods?"

Zordon's expression went all crafty, then an air of faux-innocence settled around him like a cloud. "What secret compartments?" Dimi rolled her eyes. 

So did Wes. "You get caught all the time, don't you?"

Zordon was affronted. "Not all the time! I mean, a couple of times, sure, but everybody -- hey!"

Dimi got to her feet and stalked aft, jerking open a section of flooring and gesturing the others inside. Wes smirked. 

Zordon was grumpy, climbing in beside Wes, Ben, Dimi and the robot. "I don't get caught **all** the time," he muttered.

"Will you shut up?" hissed his co-pilot, and pulled the flooring shut over their heads.

~*~

All the knocking in the world, Rick reflected, wouldn't have raised a soul in the TOI. The prison was completely deserted. They had opted to go in morphed, but that was starting to look like overkill.

"This is too weird," Namir murmured. "Where'd everyone go? And what's with the slime?" He nodded in the direction of one of the many piles of pinkish goop they'd walked passed so far -- this particular one was lying beside a doorway in a position that could have been where a guard would normally have stood.

Alice sounded grim as she said, "I think that's where everyone went."

"Huh?"

"More clones?" Rick queried.

"According to LIA," she replied, "when Replicants stop receiving their cohesion signal, they dissolve."

"Dissolve?" Namir looked nauseated. 

"You're suggesting all the guards here were Replicants," Rick realised.

"That's what it looks like."

"Then why are we still getting life-signs showing up on the scan?" Rick asked.

Alice's voice turned grimmer. "Could be a couple of things. Either there are some other poor bastards trapped here -- or there's a different batch of Replicants waiting for us."

~*~

Eric was lying down on the bio-bed when Kimberly returned to the medi-centre. Of Ven, there was no sign -- which probably meant the doctor was already five fathoms deep in her research.

"Kim?" Eric must have heard her arrive.

"Yeah." She came into the room and took a seat beside the bio-bed. "I'm here."

Eric smiled bleakly. "Wish you weren't. This is gonna get ugly."

"In sickness and in health, Eric," Kimberly replied, taking hold of one of his hands and giving it a gentle squeeze. "It doesn't matter how ugly this gets; I stay." She squeezed his hand again. "Besides, you've dodged the bullet before."

"Don't think I'm gonna dodge it this time," he admitted quietly. "My luck has to run out sooner or later."

"Don't think like that -- you're..."

"Kim, I can't feel my legs," he said softly. "My balance has gone...I can barely feel your hands on mine."

Kimberly swallowed. "Fight it," she whispered. "Fight it like you've fought everything else that's ever come up against you. Please."

"I don't know how."

"Just don't give up." Kimberly bent her head and kissed him on the temple. "Please don't give up."

~*~

Alice had recommended they split up so as they could search the TOI that much faster. Given the Ranger comm. system's power, Namir knew that Rick and Alice were within hearing, but even so, he couldn't help but feel apprehensive. Sneaking into somewhere he wasn't supposed to be was one thing -- and something that, thanks to The Master, he was very good at -- but this wasn't sneaking. This was practically a full frontal assault, something for which he had no experience.

_What if I have to fight something?_ he wondered as he made his way down the hallway. _I can't fight -- I don't know how to fight._

Maybe he wasn't the one the blue morpher had been intended for. Maybe his mother shouldn't have given it to him.

His mother.

Who was missing.

Suddenly, his own fears seemed like small change. The whole reason they were at the TOI again was in the hopes of finding information that would help find her.

That reminder lent a little more steel to Namir's courage. His parents were counting on him. So were Rick and Alice. Time to start returning their faith in him.

At that moment, he rounded a corner and stopped, dead.

"Holy...crap!" he breathed.

~*~

Hawking settled down in front of his favourite terminal. The task force headquarters was well appointed, but there was definitely something about sitting down in front of the machine you'd used almost every day of your working career for making you feel as if you could accomplish the impossible.

"All right, Simon old chap," he murmured to himself. "Work your brand of magic. Let's find the missing people."

~*~

Rick moved along the upper level hallway, making for the overall command centre of the prison, with an ease and grace that would have surprised him six weeks earlier. _Weird what you can learn in such a short space of time,_ he mused idly.

Though he was cautious, he knew there weren't any life signs indicated up here. That was something he was in two minds about. It could mean that the command team here had been clones and when their cohesion signal stopped they simply melted into the pinkish goo he'd seen everywhere else. _Or there could have been people here and they've sabotaged the computer system._

Another five yards along the hallway, he reached the first of the computer rooms. This had been the weapons and defence monitoring. It was unlikely the systems in here held any useful data, but it was something that had to be checked. He entered the room and was oddly gratified to have to step over a large puddle of pink slime. Replicants in here, then, at least.

Rick took up a seat in front of the lead terminal and started punching in commands. _Time to get to work..._

~*~

Alicia looked over the results of the tests.

"It's definite," she said to Rob. "He's had his mind played around with. Whoever it was did a regular hatchet job about it, though -- he's lucky not to have ended up as a vegetable."

Rob winced. "Any ideas when it was done?"

Alicia shook her head. "Could have been this morning, for all I can tell."

Rob sighed. "Guess we'll have to find that out the old fashioned way, then."

~*~

Alice recognised her surroundings as she walked through the lower level cells. This had been where she'd broken Eric out. That there was a life sign reading in this vicinity was making her suspicious.

_LIA, any signs of booby traps?_ she queried.

[Negative,] came the response. [But recommending caution all the same.]

_Don't believe in coincidences, either, huh?_ But LIA made no response to that.

Alice continued along the hallway, heading deeper into the bowels of the prison.

[Life sign directly ahead,] LIA warned. [Cell to your left.]

_This is what I was afraid of,_ Alice realised, grimacing. _Other prisoners._

She stepped up to the cell door and knocked, calling aloud, "Anyone in there?"

"Alice? Is that you?"

~*~

Ven looked at the search results and for the first time, she felt a little bit of hope for Eric's situation. It was an awkward hybrid of archaic techniques and up to the second technology, and yet, it could definitely work. Provided there was sufficient time to implement it.

She glanced at the earlier scan.

That was going to be the key issue. Time.

She chewed her lip. Did she run a sym?

A yell of pure panic from the medi-centre ended the debate. Grabbing a hypo-spray of sedative she'd prepared before sitting down to her research, she hurried into the medi-centre. Kimberly had her arms wrapped firmly around Eric, trying to calm him, but from what she could hear of what Eric was babbling, he was beyond being calmed. His last link with the outside world, his hearing, had just gone.

No. No time to run a sym. This was either going to work, or it wasn't.

"Kim, give me room," she said, in a voice that was far more composed than she felt.

Reluctantly, Kimberly backed away. Ven applied the hypo-spray to Eric's neck. The sedative took almost immediate effect.

"Is this...it?" Kimberly asked, her voice thick with tears.

"No. Not yet." Ven turned to face Kimberly. "It's just a sedative -- he asked me to put him under when his hearing went; he said he didn't deal too well with total silence."

Kimberly gave a hiccup of suspiciously hysterical laughter. "Even after all this time, he still doesn't deal with that." Ven's eyebrows rose at that. Kimberly shook her head. "What happens next?"

"I think I may have the answer."

~*~

Namir stared, wide-eyed. He was standing at the start of a catwalk that crossed a vast clone maturation chamber. Hundreds definitely -- thousands probably -- of individual clone pods lined the walls. To his left, he could see the clonal foeti. To his right, he could see the almost mature clones. The machinery was still running, he could hear it humming faintly, which meant that all the pods were still receiving the right nutrient mix...

...which meant the clones nearest to him must be almost ready for release.

Namir started down the steps, moving quickly, onto the maturation chamber floor. The last thing they needed was more of The Master's clones on the loose. And then something about the clone nearest to the steps caught his attention and stopped him dead once more.

"Oh. Fuck."

~*~

Alice froze at the voice. It couldn't be...shouldn't be... 

"Dad?"

"Alice?"

It was. _Oh my God..._ "Dad!"

[Caution!] LIA urged. [Probability dictates this is not...]

_LIA shut up!_ Alice snapped. She needed to think. Was this really Eric? Or was the tired, sick, old man she'd rescued the previous day Eric?

"Honey, what's going on?" Eric called. "What're you doing here?"

"I've come to get you out," Alice answered. What if the man she'd rescued yesterday was another clone? What if this was the real Eric? What if...

[Do not open this door!] LIA practically begged.

_LIA, I can't not open this door,_ Alice retorted. "Stand back, dad -- I'm gonna break the door down."

~*~

Lucas frowned over the data. Someone **had** to have helped Ransik escape. But there was no sign of anyone breaching MAX security -- which meant it was an inside job. There was no sign of anything on the security tapes -- which meant it was a very, very cleverly done inside job.

Who the hell had the computer skills to hack the MAX system?

Two names sprang to mind. Trip Regis and Rick Collins. But Trip was accounted for -- he was still in the intensive care unit of Time Force Medical, and as for Rick, Lucas knew full well where Rick had been when Ransik was broken out and that was on the landing pad at the task force headquarters.

Was there someone else? Lucas grimaced. Or was it something else? There had been Replicants running around already -- primarily the Frax clone, of course, but there was also the copy of Eric that had been standing trial on his behalf. _Are there clones of the kids lurking in the shadows waiting to be found?_

~*~

There hadn't been anything of note in any of the defence systems, or in the habitat systems -- not that Rick was terribly surprised. He'd suspected that, if pay dirt was to be had, it would be in the overall central systems -- and that would only be accessible from the main command centre -- but the other systems had to be checked first.

He now moved along the hallway towards the command centre at a loping jog. The sooner he got there, the sooner...

"Rick?" Namir's voice came over the comm. loud and clear.

"What's up, Nam?" Rick asked.

"I think I've found clone central," Namir answered.

**That** was enough to bring Rick to a complete halt. "You have?"

"Yeah," Namir answered.

"Have you told Alice?"

"She's not answering." Rick forced himself not to panic. There could be lots of reasons why Alice wasn't answering comm. calls. Except that he couldn't think of a solitary one. "And Rick," Namir added, "we've got an even bigger problem than that."

~*~

Namir heard Rick give an audible gulp. "What's that, Nam?"

Namir looked up at the nearest pod. "It's definite. We've been cloned."

"What?"

"I'm looking up at one of the nearly mature clones, and if I wasn't talking to you right now and if I didn't know damn well you're where you are, I'd think you were in this pod," Namir answered. "There's another one of Alice here, too. One of me as well. Also two others -- I figure they're probably John and Lexia." Rick swore. "And it gets worse."

"Nam, what the hell can be worse than that?"

"How about another thousand clones in various stages of generation, eight empty pods and five clones almost ready to be released?"

~*~

Hawking's fingers moved across the keyboard of the terminal in a blur. He was through the initial interference now, but behind that was a secondary layer of blocking and a third level beneath that, too. Whoever it was that set this up had really done their work.

But whoever did this probably wasn't expecting the foremost expert in temporal tracking to be on the case. Absently, Hawking smiled. _Nearly there, now._

~*~

The door proved to be a stiffer opponent than she'd anticipated. Alice found herself needing to take three or four kicks before it gave way, unlike the door of the cell she'd busted open the day before. Had that one been too easy? Was this one supposed to make her think that?

What if this was the real Eric?

What if it was a clone back at the task force base?

What if he wasn't really sick?

What if that was all some kind of ploy to get to her or Kimberly?

"Dad?" she called.

"Ali -- are you OK?" Rick's voice was an unwelcome intrusion.

"Just a sec, Rick," she responded. Aloud, she called, "Dad?"

"This can't wait, Ali," Rick insisted. "Namir's found clone central. And we have eight missing clones."

"Dad?" Alice was starting to get suspicious now. To Rick she said, "Eight? Out of how many?"

"We---"

The rest of Rick's transmission was lost in a burst of static. _What the..._ But Alice didn't have time to finish that thought as a strong arm wrapped itself around her neck.

"Sorry," said a voice, "but you can't be my daughter. You're one of those clones..."

~*~

Panic rose in Rick's chest. The comm. couldn't cut like that. There was something wrong -- Alice needed his help.

"Rick, I don't wanna rush you," Namir said, panic audible in his voice, "but you need to find this batch of clones' cohesion code and **now**."

Alice needed his help.

"Rick!"

With a sinking feeling, Rick realised he couldn't help her. He didn't know where in the complex she was. And if he didn't help Namir, it would probably be moot. The clones couldn't be allowed to escape the TOI. "I'm looking Nam," he answered tersely, starting to pound the terminal keyboard he was sitting at. "Hang tight." 

~*~

Namir looked at the five newly released clones who were all staring balefully at him. _Hang tight, he says!_

"It's one of the fakes," said the Alice-clone. "Get him!"

The Rick-clone and the clone that Namir guessed was probably based on Alice's younger brother, John, started forwards. Namir backed away -- only to bump into something else.

"Going somewhere?"

Namir whipped his head round and found that somehow his clone had crept up behind him.

"You know what, yeah -- as a matter of fact I am," Namir answered, swiftly ducking to the side and dodging his clone. _I hope this works._ "Now you see me..." The stealth mode kicked in. _And now you don't..._

To judge from the completely bemused expressions on the clones faces, it had worked.

"He's here somewhere," judged the Rick-clone. "Fakes can't just vanish into thin air."

"But he's got some sort of cloaking device," put in the fifth clone -- the one that had to be based on Rick's sister.

"Cloaking device or not," said the Alice-clone. "We have to find him."

An idea occurred to Namir. _If they're playing Hunt-The-Nam, they're not gonna be trying to get out of here,_ he reasoned. _So let's make this a real game..._

He crept up behind the Lexia-clone, briefly released the stealth mode and tapped her on the shoulder. "Looking for me?"

She jumped and whirled around, but in that time, Namir dodged backwards and brought the stealth mode back up. "Gah!" she howled and lunged towards where Namir had been standing.

Namir grinned. Who needed to fight when you could play?

~*~

Alice tried to fight off her assailant, but he used his bigger bulk to keep her in a position that she couldn't fight out of.

"You can't be Alice," he said. "You have to be one of the clones."

His arm was pressed against her windpipe, and though she was morphed -- and hence he couldn't actually crush it -- the angle he had her at combined with the arm across it meant she most effectively couldn't breathe.

"I'm...not..."

But the world began to grey and dim. She couldn't speak. Couldn't call out. Couldn't even ask why.

~*~

Rick pounded the keyboard. That code had to be in here somewhere, he just had to find it -- and the sooner the better. Namir was facing five-on-one odds while Alice... He grimaced. He wasn't sure what had happened to Alice.

_As soon as I've found this code and shut it off, I can go look for her,_ Rick reminded himself.

If he found it.

~*~

Namir crouched behind one of the computer terminals in the maturation chamber and let stealth mode drop away. As fun as this was, it was also exhausting. The only upside was that he could see the clones were as tired as he was, if not more so.

"Rick, any sign of that code?" he asked.

"Not... Got it!" Rick exclaimed. "Give me a minute to punch up the transmitter and..."

"So this is where you've got to!" exclaimed a voice.

Namir looked up to see the Alice-clone and the John-clone looming over him. _Shit!_ He tried to bring back stealth mode, but there wasn't enough power left. _Shit..._ "Rick," he said via the comm., "I don't think you've got a minute..."

~*~

Rick forced his fingers to move faster. He wasn't sure what was going on where Namir was, but whatever it was, it couldn't be good. _C'mon, c'mon..._

_:::Cohesion code transmission ceased:::_

_Yes!_ Rick gave it a moment or two, then called via the comm., "Nam?"

~*~

Namir swallowed, hard. One second, the John-clone had been reaching for him, presumably intending to grab him and make good the threat to kill him, the next both clones had started to melt into the pink gunk.

"Nam?"

"You wanna cut that any closer next time?" Namir found himself asking as he got to his feet.

"Sorry. You OK?"

"I'll live." Namir swallowed again and tried to stop shaking. "But geez that was..."

"What's the status of those clones, Nam?" Rick asked. 

"Goo," Namir replied, grateful to have something to focus on beyond how close it had been.

"All of them?"

"The five released ones for sure -- it'll take me a little while to double check the other pods."

"Got it." There was a hesitation. "Are there data sources down there?"

Namir looked around and spotted a likely bank of machines. "Looks like it."

"Destroy them."

"Don't we..."

"Destroy them." Rick was firm. "We've got more than enough evidence against this guy, and bluntly, I don't wanna run the risk of someone else finding our DNA and making more clones."

Namir could understand that viewpoint. "Understood. What're you going to do?"

"I'm gonna find Alice."

~*~

The release was so sudden that Alice found herself dropping to her knees, no longer being held up by the arms that had so successfully been holding her captive and draining her of life. The world greyed even more for a few seconds as the visceral relief of knowing she wasn't going to suffocate hit her. 

But as she recovered, something else slowly penetrated her consciousness. Her attacker had been a Replicant. A clone. It hadn't been Eric -- had never been Eric -- but that was no relief.

It meant the man she'd rescued the day before almost certainly **was** Eric.

And he was dying.

~*~

"Well?" Kerin snapped.

"Not well at all," Lucas responded, ignoring the other man's rudeness. "The Master's plan is extremely complex. My theory is every single person The Master has used in this time period -- and in the others he's been active in -- have been Replicants."

"That's quite a theory."

Lucas started to count off on his fingers. "We had the Frax clone first off. Then there was the clone of Lieutenant Chisholm from your department. Then the clone of Eric Myers that's currently in custody here in Central City." 

At that, Kerin grimaced. "That's only three."

"Sorry to interrupt," said Marissa, poking her head into Lucas' office. "But Dr Hawking's just comm'd to say he's on his way up."

Lucas and Kerin exchanged looks.

"I guess we can argue about the Replicants later," said Kerin. "Let's just hope your temporal expert has made the breakthrough we need."

"For once," said Lucas, "we're in complete agreement."

~*~

Rick moved swiftly through the dank cell block. Alice's morpher had stopped transmitting its homing signal, which suggested she'd demorphed one way or another. That couldn't be a good sign. Particularly not paired with the information that the homing signal had been stationary until vanishing.

But as he neared the location, a sound caught his attention: Sobs.

_Oh hell..._ Rick rounded the corner and came to a stop. Alice was there, and there was a conspicuous pile of pink goo just behind her -- the life sign she'd been tracing had been a clone, then. But this wasn't even the distracted Alice who'd been in control and command at the start of this little excursion. She was on her knees, huddled over, crying pitiably.

Rick demorphed and dropped to the ground beside her. "Ali?"

"He's dying, Rick..." she sobbed as his arms went around her. "I can't stop it..."

"Who's dying?" Rick asked, though he had a nasty suspicion he knew.

"Dad. He's dying and I can't stop it..."

~*~

Despite Rick's order to the contrary, Namir checked the data that was stored on the bank of machines he'd spotted. Most of the information on them was about the clones, and he was just about to put a blaster bolt through the terminal, most effectively frying the data core, when he spotted another file.

It was just tagged 'Redemption'. There was nothing about it that should have made him curious -- except that he was.

With a couple of keyboard commands, he brought the file up on screen.

"Holy...shit..."

~*~

Dimi climbed onto Zordon's back and pressed her ear to the bulkhead.

"Are they gone?" the hunched-over pilot whispered through gritted teeth.

She shot him a dirty look. "Do you have to sound like you're dying?"

Zordon opened his mouth to retort but Ben gently intervened. "Do you hear anything, my dear?" 

Dimi shook her head and clambered down, taking care to step on key parts of Zordon's anatomy, Wes noticed, amused. She reminded him of Jen, this Dimi. No shit taken, plenty doled out. Except for the questions-only thing -- that was starting to grate on his nerves. He'd pay good money to hear the woman utter a single declarative sentence.

"Okay, hotshot," Zordon was looking at him, "this is your big rescue mission. So how do we get to your lady friend?"

Wes thought about it. "First, we need a couple of those plastic suits..."

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	7. Ruin?

Ruin?

Wes shifted uncomfortably in the plastic uniform, uneasily aware of two salient facts: one, that it was going to require the careful and judicious use of a can-opener to get him out of the thing. And two, that it was, for increasingly constricting and abrasive reasons, a damned good thing he and Jen had already had their family. 

Judging from the smothered groans coming from the similarly attired Zordon, he was of much the same opinion. Dimi kicked her erstwhile boss in the shin. "Will you quit complaining?" she hissed. "Do you **want** to get us captured?"

"But my -- never mind. I should know better than to expect you to be sympathetic, you harpy," Zordon said grumpily.

"Not to interrupt," said Wes diffidently, secretly on Zordon's side but knowing better than to show it, "but I think you'd better act more like a prisoner, Dimi. We're just about to the cellblock, if I'm reading this panel right."

Dimi bent her head and tried to act servile -- not very convincingly, Wes thought, but she was obviously doing the best she could.

It had been decided -- sort of predictably, from Wes' point of view -- that Ben would go find the controls for the tractor beam and disable it so they could get their ship out of there once they found Katie. There was something niggling at Wes' memory about the outcome of this plan, but he was having trouble concentrating enough to put his finger on it. He was having trouble concentrating on anything, actually, other than trying not to be gelded by the hard plastic shell encasing his bits. On the plus side, nobody had stopped them, apparently believing the wafer-thin story that they were taking 'prisoner Dimi' to the cellblock.

Now they just had to figure out which cell Katie was in, get her out of there, get out of the compound and back to the ship, hook up with Ben and fly out without pursuit.

Piece of cake.

The lift door slid open to reveal a pair of guards regarding them suspiciously. "What's this then?" one of them barked officiously.

Zordon swiveled his helmet and looked inquiringly at Wes, who made a face at him behind the mask. "Transferring prisoner 555-0431 from detention to this cell block," he said, improvising with his father's unlisted phone number. What the hey, wasn't like anybody was going to be calling it.

"What? I wasn't notified of this," said Officious Guy, tapping his Britney Spears-like headpiece as he bent to speak into a thin microphone hovering over the console in front of him. 

At which point Zordon got overexcited and shot the guy with his blaster. The second man squeaked and dove for the floor; Dimi managed to curse out a string of questions while smacking Zordon upside the helmet. Alpha hollered his favorite expression of distress at the top of his iron lungs, and Wes, after a moment of utter disbelief, dove after the second guy, who was trying to crawl into a hole at the bottom of the console that was roughly twelve inches square.

"Knock it off," he said to the guard, who had got his head stuck in the hole. "Come on, this is silly."

The guard whimpered and tried to compress himself into a cubic foot. Wes yanked unsuccessfully on the guy's shoulder; a shot came from behind him and the guard went slack. 

"Well, you weren't getting anywhere," said an unrepentant Zordon, his blaster still smoking. He tugged off his helmet and began to study the console.

"What the hell is the matter with you? Did you have to kill them?" Wes hollered at the pilot, dimly aware that he'd begun to sound like Dimi.

"Who's killed?" Zordon shrugged. "It's only a stun blast."

Wes was deflated. "Oh."

A klaxon went off. "Report, station 126BFG," crackled the console. "Report immediately! We have detected blaster fire in your area!"

"We've had a blaster malfunction," said Zordon, chewing on his lower lip. "Um, we're fine, everybody's fine. No need to worry." He paused. "How are you?"

There was a silence over the console. Dimi stared balefully at Zordon, mouthing 'How are you?' in disgusted disbelief. She threw up her hands.

"Uh, fine, thanks," said the console. "Should we send a repair crew?"

"Negative, negative," said Zordon hurriedly. "We've got a plasma leak, we're attempting to lock it down. Very dangerous, very -- oh the hell with it," and he blasted the console.

"That was smooth," said Wes, folding his arms.

"Shut up," snarled Zordon. "Alpha, get a fix on this Katie person."

Alpha waddled over to the wall and examined it, the little colored lights on his football head blinking furiously. "There is an informational port, but it requires an interface I do not currently possess."

Wes jerked his helmet off and threw it across the room. "Make one," he growled through clenched teeth, causing the little bot to step back. He fingered his blaster. "Or you're scrap."

Zordon looked at Alpha. Alpha blinked at Zordon, shrugged, and stuck his finger in the port. "Downloading," he said after a moment.

Wes holstered his blaster. "Good."

~*~

Hawking entered Lucas' office feeling very satisfied. Kerin was glowering -- which was no surprise -- while Lucas was looking expectant.

"Doc, what's the verdict?" Lucas asked.

"I have a pinpointed date time. We can send a recovery team whenever you're ready."

"That," said Kerin, "might just be the best news I've heard all day."

Lucas looked marginally worried. "I think hell may be about to freeze over."

Hawking blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The director and I have just agreed for the second time in ten minutes."

Kerin choked. "At this rate, Kendall, we may even end up on the same side in Captain Myers' court case."

"I certainly hope so, Director," Lucas retorted.

Hawking shook his head. "Lucas, I trust you have a recovery team in mind?"

Lucas nodded. "The Vengeance trio. If they can infiltrate and exit from the TOI in one piece, they can do pretty much anything."

~*~

Somebody was groaning; after a few seconds Katie recognized her own voice. She sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes, belatedly realizing her hands and arms were free. She must have been out like a light, she thought, for Ransik to have released her. 

At least he hadn't killed her. There had been a moment there when she'd felt sure he intended to, a moment when the world had grayed ominously. She'd sent a wave of love to Al and Namir, whenever they were. She'd reflected detachedly, and briefly, that Wes was going to be seriously pissed at Ransik when he caught up with him. That Wes would indeed find Ransik was never in doubt, not in Katie's estimation.

So when the door slid open unexpectedly Katie wasn't remotely surprised to see a disheveled and plastic-clad Wes standing there looking incredibly relieved. Katie grinned and gestured to the suit. "New packaging?" 

Wes chuckled. "See what I go through for you, while you're lazing around in these deluxe accommodations?" He helped her to stand, giving her a concerned look when she couldn't stifle a groan. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Katie nodded, limping. "Took you long enough."

Wes rolled his eyes. "That's because my help is a flipping comedy routine. Come on."

The hall was alight with bright streams of blaster fire; Katie found herself shoved behind a handsome, dark-haired stranger, wearing the same sort of plastic uniform as Wes had. 

"Gee," said Wes dryly, taking aim down the hall, "I guess they saw through that spiffy ruse of yours. Where's Alpha?"

The stranger ignored him. Another stranger, this time a pretty, dark-haired woman answered him. Sort of. "Is this the best time for discourse? Don't we need a plan to get out of here?"

Wes grimaced, though Katie didn't know why. "Yes, Dimi," he said, a long-suffering tone in his voice. "Have you got one?"

"Can I borrow your blaster?" Wes tossed it to her and Dimi shot a hole into a grate at the base of the wall. A foul stench rose from the opening.

"I am not going in there," growled the handsome stranger, whereupon Wes grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and the seat of the plastic pants and pitched the man into the breach, following him with no particular grace.

"Shall we?" said Dimi, and Katie took the plunge.

~*~

"Oh, cripes," said Wes, holding his nose. "I remember this part." The others looked at him with that what-planet-are-you-from expression with which he was becoming entirely too familiar. He sighed, and wished he hadn't, as it required inhaling. "Forget I said anything. Where's Alpha?"

Dimi looked as if she wanted to answer him but was struggling with it. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. Zordon watched her like a cat watching a mouse hole. Tension mounted. "I wonder if he found his way back to the ship?" she said finally. Wes felt really let down.

Katie looked bewildered. "Who what?"

The stranger shouldered forward. "Hi," he said with a winning smile. "I'm Zordon. You must be Katie."

Wes rolled his eyes. "You figure that out by yourself?"

Katie looked startled, then stunned. "Zordon? Zordon of Eltar?"

"Yeah," said that worthy, looking gratified. "You've heard of me?"

"I -- you -- " Katie floundered. Wes sent her a warning look, and Katie nodded. "Uh, no."

Zordon's face fell. "Oh."

The pile of crap on which they stood sat in what looked to be a couple of feet of slime. The ooze belched, and Wes suddenly remembered something that really would have been better to remember sooner as a tentacle curled around his ankle and jerked him into the foul-smelling fluid.

He fought with the creature, whatever it was, his eyes screwed tight shut. He was aware that the others were shouting and lurching about. His face broke the surface. "Shit," said Wes succinctly, before being dragged under again.

Well, crap. His plastic-clad limbs were growing heavier, he couldn't hear anything thanks to the muck in his ears, and he was pretty sure his hair was dissolving.

And then suddenly the thing let go, and Wes did a slow bob to the surface. Katie plucked him out of the slime. "Thank goodness," he heard her say as he shook the goo out of his ears.

Wes spat. "I have a feeling," he said when he could talk without rivers of slop running into his mouth, "that this is not a positive development."

As if on cue the walls of the garbage chamber began to close in. "Thought so," said Wes.

"You don't have to be smug about it," said Katie, getting to her feet.

"Isn't that the outline of a door?" asked Dimi, pointing to the wall. 

Wes stifled an urge to shove the woman into the muck, settling for giving her a look. Dimi shrugged and smiled apologetically.

"We need a new plan, Junior. Think you're up to the challenge, or do you want to let a real man handle things?" said Zordon to Wes.

That was it. Wes shoved Zordon up against the wall of the sewer. "Listen, Jughead, I've just about had it with you. I've got kids more mature than you are."

"Okay, okay." Zordon held his hands out in a gesture of surrender. "What's got your panties in a knot, anyway, Junior? You said you and Miss Katie here were just friends. Jealous?"

Wes shot him a cold glare. "And that's another thing. I'm thirty-eight."

"What?"

"I'm thirty-eight, so can it with the 'Junior' crap."

Zordon fingered his chin. "Thirty-eight, huh? I wouldn't've guessed, looking at you."

Katie's eyebrows climbed pretty well off her forehead at this example of masculine chest-beating. She pushed her way past Zordon toward the wall Dimi indicated.

Wes grinned. "New plan," he said. "Let Katie handle it."

Zordon grinned wolfishly. "Too much for you, Babyface? How about I let my friend Mr. Blaster handle it?" he said cockily with a smile for Katie, aiming at the door.

Katie gave him a withering look. "Bullshit," she said crisply, and punched her way through the door.

Wes couldn't help it. He cracked up at the astonished expression on Zordon's face. "It's okay," he said, as he climbed past the pilot and then helped him up into the hallway. "I felt pretty much the same way when I saw her do that the first time." He patted the now crestfallen Zordon on the shoulder. "Besides, she's married, so you wouldn't have had a chance anyway. C'mon, let's get out of here."

~*~

Rick held Alice close, wishing he could somehow magically make things all better.

"He kept me safe for so long, Rick," Alice murmured softly, still crying. "He protected me...me and mom...and I can't repay that...can't even...I screwed up, Rick."

"No you didn't," he replied, gently stroking her hair. "Whatever happens, you didn't screw up, Ali.."

"Didn't I?" She shifted in his arms and looked up at him, eyes red rimmed and puffy from crying. "I could have...should have..."

"You couldn't do any more than you did," Rick responded. "And whatever happens, I know your dad knows that."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Then believe it, Ali," Rick murmured. "Believe it."

There was a polite cough from behind them. Namir, Rick guessed.

"Uh, guys?"

It was Namir. Rick craned his neck to look round at the blue ranger, who was still morphed. "'Sup Nam?"

"I've found something that we need to get to Lucas."

"What?" Alice asked, her voice slightly unsteady.

"It's about something called Redemption."

~*~

Kimberly didn't dare to hope. "You really think you've found it?"

Ven nodded. "It's complicated -- and there's no guarantee it's going to work..."

"But it's a better shot than doing nothing?" Kimberly queried.

Ven nodded again. "Yeah -- lemme show you."

With a backward glance at Eric, who was now sleeping peacefully, Kimberly followed Ven into the small office. On the computer monitor was a list of procedures.

"I already said I could repair the damage," Ven began. Kimberly nodded. "But, that would just stave off the inevitable because of the toxins in Eric's blood." Kimberly nodded again. "What I think I can do, is purify Eric's blood -- cleaning out the toxins. If I do that, then it becomes more meaningful to heal the damage already inflicted."

"You mean like dialysis?" Kimberly asked.

"Exactly." Ven sighed. "Unfortunately, in this time, dialysis is not a common treatment -- the ailments that require it in your time, like failing kidneys, are healed here at the first sign of trouble -- so we have little in the way of native equipment. I can replicate it, but it's going to take time."

It was Kimberly's turn to nod. "How much time?" _Is it time Eric has?_

"I won't know until I start," Ven admitted.

"Then start," said Kimberly softly. "Some chance is better than no chance."

~*~

They were jogging at a brisk pace down a corridor, caution, at this point, more or less tossed to the wind. Wes rounded a corner and nearly skidded into a crowd of white plastic. "Whoop," he said, spinning on his heel and backtracking into Dimi. The group of four ran at top speed from the hollering troops and managed to secrete themselves in a doorway. Katie smacked the control panel on the wall and the door slid closed, giving them a breather.

"So you got kids, huh? How old?" Zordon wanted to know, panting.

Bent over, hands on his thighs, Wes had to think about it. "My son Rick is twenty, my daughter Lexia is seventeen."

Zordon stared at him, dawning respect in his expression. "Fast work, Babyface." 

There was no way Wes was going to try to explain it, so he just shot Zordon a dirty look.

"Is she cute?"

Wes blinked. "Is who cute?"

Zordon leaned past him, looking down the empty hall. "Your daughter. She cute?"

"Dammit, Zordon --" Wes began, but the pilot cut him off.

"Hey, I'm only asking. What?"

"Come on," said Katie shortly, and they started running again.

The docking bay loomed suddenly out of nowhere. "Think the old man got that tractor beam down?" said Dimi.

"You better hope so, or this is going to be one short trip," Zordon shot back. "Let's go."

They started blasting their way across the tarmac, or whatever the landing surface was called around here. Wes found his steps faltering; something was really wrong, he could feel it. If he could just remember what happened in the movie... oh, shit.

Ben.

He turned toward the end of the landing bay, where he could hear the distinctive sound of -- swordfighting? Not the weird buzz and crackle of lightsabers, but a good old-fashioned clang and thwack. Wes squinted, absently punching an approaching guard. Ben was putting up quite a fight, Errol Flynn style, swashing and buckling. It would've been hugely entertaining if Wes hadn't had that sick feeling in his stomach.

His dark-cloaked opponent spun dramatically, his large silver weapon flashing in the light, and Wes got a good look. "RANSIK?!" he shouted in outrage, running a few steps forward.

"Give it up, old man," cackled Ransik. "You can't win, you know."

"Sure I can," said Ben cheerfully.

Ransik spun, his blade flat, catching Ben under the chin. Wes skidded to a halt, horrified. There was a pop, a fizz, a big puff of smoke, and then just Ben's empty cloak floating to the ground.

"NOOOOO!" screamed Wes. He ran forward, fully intending to tear Ransik's head off, but somehow Zordon was at his side, pulling him toward the ship. 

"Come on, Wes," he said, for once his voice serious. "Don't let him have died for no reason. Let's get out of here."

After a brief hesitation, the hordes of white-clad soldiers bearing down on them registered, and Wes sprinted for the ship, scant inches behind Zordon. The hatch slammed shut, Alpha said the usual, Zordon popped him one and the ship shuddered and lifted from the floor, wheeling awkwardly and then exploding from the docking bay doors.

Wes slid to the ground, his head in his hands. "Ah, Ben," he said sadly.

A head popped up from the moveable floorboards. "What?" said Ben.

Wes stared, his jaw working open and closed. This was definitely a departure from the movie, and a welcome one. "You old faker!" he managed finally.

Zordon made his way back. "What's with the noise, Babyface? We've got comp—well, shit." He stared bug-eyed at the older man who was pulling himself out of concealment. Zordon shook himself. "Mental note: ask later," he said. "We've got company, Babyface. Up or down?"

"Up," said Wes briefly, climbing the ladder into the topside weapons array pod while Zordon headed below. Compared to flying a Zord (Wes mentally chuckled to himself), simply shooting their pursuers out of the sky was roughly on a par with Nintendo, so that business was taken care of without much ado. He rejoined the rest in the bridge, where Ben was finishing up his story.

"... it's called flash powder," he said with a grin. He raised a hand to greet Wes. "Nice shooting, my boy."

"Flash powder? Son of a b—gun. I'm glad you're okay, Ben," said Wes, chuckling. 

The older man smiled. "If I had been about to die, rest assured I would have come up with something much more pontifical to say." 

Alpha bleeped from his little corner, sort of like the robot equivalent of clearing his throat, Wes thought. "I, too, am glad you came through the conflict unscathed, George."

The assembled humans stared at the older man, who blushed to the hairline. "I'd really prefer you call me Ben."

"But why?" inquired the little bot. "My database indicates that your name is not Ben, but Geor—okay, Zordon, shutting up," he finished in response to a glare from the pilot.

Wes cocked his head to one side expectantly. "George?"

"I don't like the name George," Ben mumbled. "And it's hardly relevant, anyway," he went on, his tone stronger. "What is relevant is, we have a little problem on our hands. The Emperor and your friend Ransik have a bit of a surprise in store, and we have to stop them, or not just Tantalis, but all of planet Earth is doomed."

* * *

__

TO BE CONTINUED...


	8. Relief?

Relief?

Alice said nothing as she, Rick and Namir headed out of the deserted TOI. What had happened proved to her, at least, that she wasn't up to field operations. What Namir had to say told her they needed to get to Central City ASAP. _Someone needs to get in touch with Jen and everyone back in 2013,_ she mused. _They need to know that._ She sighed. _And I guess I need to..._

"Ali -- there's a comm. message for you," Rick called, having reached the transport first. "From your mom."

Suddenly all her other thoughts were irrelevant. She picked up her pace and called, "What does it say?"

Rick just smiled faintly and shook his head. "It's tagged private."

"Oh." Alice felt her heart clench. _Bad news or worse news?_ She reached the transport and started to punch up the message.

Kimberly's image formed on the small comm. viewer, her expression tired but determined. Alice guessed from that alone that this couldn't be the worst news.

"Honey -- I know you're probably off doing something important, but I wanted you to know that Ven's found something that's given dad a real shot. I'll keep you updated. Be safe."

"Good news?" Namir asked softly.

"It's hope," Alice answered.

"Your dad's a fighter," said Rick, giving her shoulders a comforting squeeze. "If Ven's found something that might help him, you'll see; he'll make it work."

Alice opened her mouth to reply when the comm. terminal dinged, indicating someone was trying to contact them now. She punched the message up, and was both surprised and slightly alarmed to find herself looking at her mother again.

"Mom?"

Kimberly smiled faintly. "No news yet." Alice decided that was probably good news. "But Lucas would like you three to head to Central City -- seems they've found Wes and Katie."

"They have?" said Namir.

"Yup." Kimberly nodded. "You guys are going as the rescue team."

"Good," said Rick.

"I'll tell Lucas you're on your way," Kimberly finished. "Do you have anything else you want me to tell him?"

Alice glanced at Namir. "We've found something here -- Nam's got all the data."

"Something tells me," said Kimberly, "Lucas isn't going to like it."

"Nope."

Kimberly nodded. "OK -- I'll warn him. Good luck."

The comm. connection cut. Alice turned to Namir and Rick. "Well -- let's get going. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get Wes and Katie back."

~*~

Lucas cut the comm. connection with Kimberly feeling a leaden weight settle around his shoulders.

"More bad news?" suggested Hawking.

"Is it that obvious?" Lucas responded. Hawking just gave Lucas a look. "Right." He sighed. "Something tells me we've just found why The Master wanted us to be stuck here longer."

~*~

After dropping his little verbal bomb, Ben had directed Zordon to a location that turned out to be a huge, four-sided pyramid, deep in a jungle and overhung with moss. Wes raised his eyebrows. The place looked old, ancient even by this time's standards. _Whew._

Ben had beguiled the travel time using Dimi's best scrambler codes to contact various rebel factions, calling a meeting so he could fill everyone in on whatever the Death Star was going to turn out to be. Wes himself was betting on some kind of doomsday machine, as an automatic orange juicer or a self-cleaning lawnmower would hardly seem to generate this level of concern, no matter how silly the timeline seemed to be. Still, you never knew.

Under the ancient structure everyone but Ben was astonished to find a veritable warren of slick and futuristic tunnels, meeting rooms, control rooms, and, in an impressive nod to the movie that had become the bane of Wes' existence, a large and fully-stocked landing bay, complete with X-wing fighters. He stood below one and looked up at the cockpit, musing to himself that if things stayed true to cinematic form, when Alpha got nailed in the back of Wes' X-wing Wes was going to eject the debris before he let them repair him.

Someone cleared his throat behind him; Wes turned to find a diffident Zordon. "I'm -- well, see you around, Babyface."

Wes nodded. "Got your reward?"

Zordon quirked a grin. "Your friend Ben or whatever his name is needs to work on his definition of 'exorbitant'. Besides, it looks like you guys are going to need it more than I do if you're taking on the Emperor."

Wes mentally debated giving the 'so you're just going to leave' speech, then shrugged. Luke was a whiner anyway, and Zordon had gone above and beyond, for a guy who was only in it for the money. "Thanks for the assist with Katie." He held out his hand.

Zordon looked at him, surprised, then took the proffered hand and gave it a healthy shake. "No sweat... Wes."

Wes grinned. "Nice knowing you, 'Don. Come on, I'll walk you to your ship."

Zordon fell in step next to him. "I should give the old girl a name, huh?"

Wes couldn't help it. "How about the 'Millennium Falcon'?"

"'Millennium Falcon'?" Zordon thought about it, frowning. "What the hell's that mean?"

Wes shrugged. "Damned if I know."

Zordon snorted. "Leave it to you to come up with a name like that."

Wes chuckled. "Okay. How about the 'Falconzord'?"

Zordon's face lit up. "Now you're talking."

They turned the corner to find Ben in quiet conversation with Dimi and Katie. Ben chuckled, scratching his beard. "And then what?"

"Would you believe he asked how **they** were?" Dimi laughed along with the other two. 

"Okay, Dimi, we're ready to -- " A frown creased Zordon's forehead. "Hey! Are you talking about me?"

"What makes you think that, the gleeful laughter or the general atmosphere of derision?" said Wes dryly.

Zordon put his hands on his hips and grinned. "Anytime, anywhere, Babyface. I can take you."

"Wes!" Katie hissed, pulling him away from the group. "You can't talk to him like that! Don't you know who he is?"

Wes looked at her. "I know who he's supposed to become, Kate, but he ain't him yet, not by a long shot, trust me on that." He led her back, turning his attention to Ben. "So, Ben-Steve-Frank-Purvis-Theodore-Jimmy-Joe-Bob, you won't tell us what this big meeting you're pulling together is all about, how 'bout you fill us in on the George thing?"

"I already told you," said Ben truculently. "I don't like the name George. And besides, that's not how I'm known around here."

Wes tilted his head. "Around here? You mean around here Tantalis, or around here Earth?" Ben/George mumbled something. Wes cupped his hand around his ear. "Sorry, come again?"

"Not from Earth, okay? Not like it's a crime or anything. They're not from Earth either," Ben jerked a thumb at Zordon and Dimi.

"Hey, I'm hardly in a position to criticize." Wes rubbed his nose. "So where do you hail from then, George?"

Ben sent him an aggravated look. "You wouldn't have heard of it."

"Try me." Wes folded his arms. 

"Gulumpharoo," muttered Ben into his sleeve. Wes just rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. I'm from Gallifrey, all right?

Dimi, Katie, and Zordon exchanged blank looks while Wes nodded, satisfied. "Never heard of it," the pilot said, mystified. "You're not a member of the Alliance, are you?"

"No," said Ben airily, and clamped his lips shut. The silence became thick enough to wade through; Ben looked back at Wes nervously.

"And your friend in the police box?" prompted Wes.

"My mentor," said Ben grumpily. "I'm on my last assignment before getting my own TARDIS."

"Uh huh," said Wes smugly. Mad as it was, things were at last beginning to come clear. He supposed it wasn't really all that surprising that Gallifrey existed; certainly time travel was more than possible, and if somebody wanted to create a blind to fool an inherently suspicious planet, making a television program out of their reality would more than put people off the scent. After all, if it was fiction, there couldn't be any truth in it, right? And the special effects were so very bad. Believability went right out the window.

Katie was watching him. "Wes?" she said in a too-sweet voice, putting him on his guard.

"Yeah?" he said, warily.

"You need to tell me what's going on, now, or I am going to put you through the wall."

"Right." Wes cleared his throat. "Sorry about that." He opened his mouth to begin, and a small alarm went off.

"Oops!" said Ben brightly. "Our colleagues have arrived. No time to waste. Zordon, Dimi," he shook hands industriously, "it's been lovely. Wes, Katie, after you."

Zordon grudgingly gave the older man an approving look. "That was pretty smooth."

Ben grinned, showing all his teeth. "It was, wasn't it? Buh-bye, now." He waggled his fingers at the bemused duo, and then Wes found himself and Katie being hustled down the corridor.

~*~

Hawking watched as the breathless trio of Vengeance Rangers entered Lucas' office.

"What did you do, run from transport parking?" Lucas enquired.

To Hawking's amusement, the trio looked slightly embarrassed.

"We were in a hurry," said Rick slightly defensively.

"They're not even in uniform!" objected Kerin at that moment.

Hawking groaned, and rolled his eyes. Kerin really was an anally retentive idiot sometimes.

Lucas glared at Kerin. "Right at this moment, I don't care **what** they're wearing -- just that they're here and we can get underway. Kids," he added, "take a seat. Hawking?"

Dismissing Kerin from his mind, Hawking cleared his throat. "I've tracked the temporal trace I was able to take in the immediate aftermath of Captain Collins and Mrs Drake's abduction and, after breaking through three layers of interference -- whoever is behind this certainly didn't want me to do this too quickly -- pinned it down to an exact temporal coordinate." He looked around the room. "That coordinate corresponds with a date roughly ten millennia ago."

"Ten thousand years?!" Rick whistled. "Wow."

"It gets better," said Hawking. "The trace leads to a continent that flat out isn't there any more."

This was news to Lucas and Kerin too, who both choked as much as the kids did.

"What?!" Kerin finally spluttered. "Don't be ridiculous. How can a continent not be there any more?"

"Many reasons," said Hawking tartly. "Earth is **not** the stable planet it appears -- and if you don't believe me," he added, "look up a much more recent geophysical disappearance; namely Alta California in 2436." Kerin opened his mouth to object further. "The other thing," Hawking continued, ignoring him, "that piqued my curiosity is the complete lack of a Destiny Force backlash. And frankly, **that** interests me more than whether or not the continent is still there." Kerin's mouth closed with a mutinous snap.

"What do you mean no Destiny Force?" queried Namir. "I know I don't know much about temporal mechanics but..."

"But if they're that far in the past," Hawking finished, "there should be something showing. Some sort of temporal ripple. You're absolutely right."

"What does that lack mean?" asked Lucas.

"Essentially," said Hawking, "that Captain Collins and Mrs Drake, **and**, I hasten to add, Namir, Rick and Alice, are **supposed** to spend some time in that particular time."

That little revelation provoked a stunned silence.

"Whoa!" Rick breathed.

"Do you think the Master knew that?" Lucas wondered.

"Unlikely," said Hawking. "I suspect that the destination wasn't planned -- just the abduction and the interference. And if Captain Collins and Mrs Drake are supposed to be there, at least **some** of the interference may not have been planned." Hawking smiled wryly. "Try to use the time stream to do your dirty work for you and the chances are it will rebound against you." Turning to the Vengeance trio, he said, "You three will be leaving in the next five minutes."

"Ah, correction," said Alice. "Rick and Namir will be."

Hawking lifted his eyebrows, though he wasn't entirely surprised. "I've just said..."

"Dad's...dad's sick," said Alice a little self-consciously. "I know I should..."

"You want to wait for firm news," said Lucas gently. "Kim's explained."

"You're not just going to..." began Kerin.

Hawking had to cover his mouth to hide the sudden grin as he watched Lucas turn a force ten glare on the Temporal Investigations director. "Yes, Director, I am 'just going to'. Don't make me go into the legalities of Captain Myers' condition and your role in same, because I can assure you, you'll lose on that front." Again Kerin's mouth closed with a snap.

"From a temporal stand point," Hawking put in gently, "you **will** have to go at some point, Alice -- your father's health notwithstanding. But," he smiled reassuringly, "there is no reason why we can't delay your departure and see how Ven gets on. It's been nearly four hours since she began -- there should be news soon."

Alice nodded. "Thanks."

"If that's all right, Lucas," Hawking continued.

Lucas nodded. "Of course. You're the expert."

Hawking smiled. "Rick -- Namir; time to go."

~*~

The meeting room was a lot more crowded than Wes expected, though given that Ransik was this time's equivalent of Darth Vader he wasn't surprised that there should be emphatic opposition. He scanned the room, pleased at the sense of organization and camaraderie that permeated the atmosphere. Whatever it was Ben had found, the thought of getting rid of it sure seemed to cheer everyone up.

"People, quiet, please." Katie nudged Wes, whose eyebrows raised off his forehead at the sight of the speaker. Good lord, it was the fish guy. _Serves me right for getting all complacent about alien life,_ he thought to himself, schooling his expression when he caught Ben staring.

"I am Admiral Ackbar," he said, only his lower lip moving. _Of course you are,_ thought Wes. _This also serves me right for thinking how cheesy this particular costume looked._ "As you all know," continued the fish, "our faithful ally Ben recently was able to penetrate the defences of the compound at Tyr Tantalis Prime, at great personal risk." Wes raised an eyebrow at Ben, who looked smug. "At that time he was able to obtain the specifications for the Emperor's doomsday device."

Wes nearly swallowed his tongue; that was the nearly same phrase he'd used rather sarcastically to himself earlier. The back of his neck prickled. It was easy to forget where he was, but now he wondered how interested these Joes would be to learn that Atlantis ultimately would take a permanent nose-dive? And, more uncomfortably, Wes began to wonder just how far off that particular cataclysm was... "Boy," he muttered to Katie. "This whole 'prime directive' thing is a lot harder than it looks on TV."

She stared at him. "Did you hit your head again?"

He opened his mouth to reply again; this time a klaxon sounded. 

"What is it?" barked Ackbar. 

Someone officious at a nearby control panel swivelled around in his chair. "Intruders, Admiral." 

"Put them on holo." 

The holographic projector in the middle of the floor flickered to life; silhouetted in the confines of the image were two very familiar figures, sneaking through the underbrush. "Inside the pyramid, Hawking says," said one of them, clearly annoyed. "Hah!"

Ackbar made a burbling noise. "Enable defences. We can't take any chances, not with victory so close."

"WAIT! Don't!" hollered Wes, Katie jumping to her feet just a beat behind him. "That's my son!"

"And mine," added Katie for good measure.

Ackbar burbled some more, but Wes didn't wait around to hear what it was in reference to. He was already sprinting for the door.

The jungle air hit him like water on the hot rocks in a sauna, with a wet sizzle. "Rick! Nam! Over here!"

A more welcome pair of Rangers Wes had never seen, as he grabbed his tall son in a bear hug. "You okay, son?"

Rick chuckled. "I'm supposed to be asking you that, Dad." 

"Mostly just glad to see you." Wes held his son off a bit to have a good look at him. Both Rick and Namir were wearing some kind of fatigues, iron gray with trim colour-coded to their Ranger uniforms. And fatigues was certainly the word, Wes thought. Both boys looked like they'd been through the wash cycle and left in a pile to dry. "Come on, let's get you both inside."

Katie, for her part, all but had Namir tucked under her arm like a football. Not quite, but she had an air about her that said she'd like to. "So the morpher worked all right for you? You're not hurt? How's Eric?"

The look Rick and Namir exchanged at the last question stopped Wes in his tracks outside the pyramid. He focused on his son. "Rick? Why didn't Ali come with you?"

Rick huffed out a breath. "When we left, Dad, things were a bit rocky with Eric. Ali wanted to stay and -- and see if -- see how things turned -- I mean -- " he faltered, finally dwindling to a stop.

Wes stared at him. "No."

"They're doing everything they can, Dad -- " Rick began.

Fury welled up, tearing through Wes like erupting lava. "When I get my hands on the Master," he gritted through his teeth, "I swear to God I am going to kill him for this."

Katie put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It'll be okay, Wes," she said quietly.

"Dammit, Katie," Wes made no attempt to check the rage that had him shaking, "I should be there! Eric's facing -- he might be -- I should be there, with him!" He turned and drew back his fist, intending to punch the stone face of the pyramid.

Except he found his hand enclosed in a stronger brown one that refused to let him. "You'll have a rough time killing anybody if your hand is jelly," his old friend reproved him.

"All right." Wes nodded, suddenly exhausted. "Let's just go home, okay?" Rick and Namir exchanged glances again. "What now?" Wes asked, his temper rising again.

"Well, uh, the thing is, you can't." Namir was biting his lip nervously, as though anticipating another outburst.

"WHAT?" Wes managed, then found himself speechless.

"The thing is," Namir said rapidly, "that you're supposed to be here and whatever it is you're supposed to do you haven't done it yet so you can't leave until you do or you'll screw up the timeline, okay?"

Katie frowned. "What do you mean, we're supposed to be --"

Wes interrupted. "How in the hell can we be supposed to be here if we're not from this friggin' time?" he howled. 

Namir shrugged. "I didn't really get everything Dr. Hawking was saying --" 

"Yeah, well, who does?" Wes growled.

"--but I do know there's something here you're supposed to do, and we can't go until you've done it."

"Fine." Wes stalked into the pyramid. "I'll get into the damn X-wing and destroy the damn Death Star with one damn lucky shot, and then we can all go home." He was aware of Rick staring after him dumfounded, but he didn't give a rat's patoot.

~*~

Al wanted to pound the wall in frustration. He settled for pacing the antechamber outside Lucas' office. Carmen had been almost apologetic in interrogation, answering each and every question in such a way that Al **knew** the man was telling the truth, and yet there was nothing in what he was saying that was remotely useful. He was just another victim in The Master's plans -- which meant Al was no nearer having his hands wrapped firmly around The Master's throat for what he'd done to Al's family.

The only light in the present situation was that at least they knew where Katie was. _But she's not safe yet._

~*~

Ven sank into the nearest available chair. It was done. She had done everything she could -- it was now a matter of letting the last of the dialysis run through and hoping that the strain on Eric's body hadn't been too great. It had been touch and go during the procedures. Twice, she'd needed to restart his heart. That didn't bode well. Going in his favour was the fact that he was a fit, active, healthy individual. _Of course, that would count for more if this **wasn't** coming on the back of a three week stay in the TOI on starvation rations._

Ven shook her head. It was out of her hands now. _And at least I've been able to do more for Eric than I could do for Martin._

~*~

Rick caught up to him. "Um, Dad, are you okay?"

Wes sighed and groped around for his self-control. "No, Rick, I am not okay, but I'm also done taking it out on you and Nam."

His son looked at him doubtfully. "Okay, but I meant -- well, that last speech you sounded like Luke," Wes ushered him into the meeting room, "Sky... walker... on a bad... day..." The words drifted away as the young Ranger scanned the room. Rick turned to his father, astonishment writ large on his face. "Dad? Is this what it looks like -- hey, is that the fish guy?"

Despite his worry for Eric, Wes grinned. "Live and in tuna," he said. 

"Oh my God, it really is," breathed Rick. "Ali is going to have a fit." Then he clearly remembered what Wes had said earlier. "Wait, so you're supposed to be Luke?" Wes blushed. "Ohhh, maaan," said his son with a grin that echoed his father's, "Mom is going to have a field day."

Wes' eyes widened. He hadn't thought about that.

"Gentlemen," said an exasperated Ackbar, "if we may continue?" A general harrumphing went around the room, Rick and Wes exchanged glances, and then everyone settled down. A hologram blipped into view. "This is the Emperor's ultimate weapon. As we see from these specifications, the Death Tower is located at the very heart of Tyr Tantalis Prime." 

"The Death Tower?" Rick snorted, but quietly. Not quietly enough to avoid a glare from Katie, though.

Ackbar walked around the holo, fins behind his back. "The Death Tower is heavily fortified, as one might expect; but, thanks to our offensive strategists, we have found a weakness that we believe the Emperor and his forces are as yet unaware of." The holo did a zoom, focusing on a small, blinking square at the base of the tower. "We believe that a single, low-concussion charge placed here will be enough to topple the tower, and thus remove the threat."

Wes bit his lip. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't. Probably create a time loop or something. Eric would do it if he were here. But Eric was in trouble, and Wes could do no less for his fallen comrade. He got to his feet. 

"It'll be like shooting womp rats in Beggar's Canyon back home!" Wes hollered, and felt immeasurably better.

The entire room turned to stare at him; Ben in particular had an air of acute interest on his face. Rick silently dissolved into laughter beside him, his face in his hands. Katie clearly thought he'd lost his mind; Wes mouthed 'sorry' and shrugged. Namir merely looked bewildered at this fresh evidence of one of his elders having gone round the bend.

A small commotion occurred at the far end of the room. "I guess the only thing for me to say is, 'You can count me in'," came a fresh voice, and there was Alice, a huge grin on her face.

Rick was across the room in about a second and a half, and his response on reaching Ali was such that even the most suspicious smiled at one another and holstered any weapons.

Wes cleared his throat as the liplock went on. "Um, kids, break it up now or I'm going to get a hose," he said dryly.

Ackbar burbled benignly. "But after all, my friend, what is it but this that we fight for?" He made another noise that Wes realized after a second was fishy laughter. "Now then, you seemed to feel that this target would present little problem. Therefore I shall appoint you Red team leader. Assemble your team."

Wes chuckled. Red team, how appropriate. "First things first, Admiral, no offence. Ali...?"

The pretty blonde hugged Wes, hard. "He's going to be okay," she whispered in his ear. 

Wes gave a whoop and grasped the girl around the waist, lifting her up and spinning around. "Katie, did you hear? Eric's okay!"

Katie was trying to hug both Rick and Namir at the same time. "I heard," she managed, laughing. 

"Okay, then," said Wes. "Rick, you're my point man; Ali, you and Nam on port and starboard flank. Kate, you're with me. We're gonna shove that tower right down that Emperor's throat."

Ben coughed softly, off to the side. "I applaud your enthusiasm, but it won't be quite that easy, you know."

Rick raised an interrogative eyebrow at his father, who mouthed 'Obi-wan' immediately before Alice shrieked. "OH MY GOD!" She pointed at Ben, who immediately glanced around to see what she was shrieking at. "It's -- it can't be -- it IS! George Lucas!"

"What?" said Wes, flabbergasted.

"How?" said Rick, astounded.

"Who?" said Katie, confused.

"Nuts," said Ben, crestfallen.

~*~

These X-wings weren't so different from the Zords Wes was used to, he thought. Which made a certain amount of sense as Zordon had based his creations on just this technology.

Wes had rather baldly volunteered the three kids to fly in his squadron, assuming they had enough future-tech dumped into their head to be able to handle it. He'd sort of planned for Katie to stay on the ground, be his control; but then Admiral Ackbar had shown him the one ship in the rebel fleet capable of the exacting sort of targeting they'd need to take down the tower. It had two gunner pits, one aft and one forward, and both completely separate from the cockpit. So Katie was sitting beside him, concentration writ large on her face as she got used to flying the craft.

Wes himself was manning the forward gunner pit, on the theory (which he'd been reluctant to voice) that since Luke Skywalker made the shot that took the Death Star down… well, he couldn't even finish it to himself. Though there was some sincere irony in the fact that as Luke had depended on the Force, so was Wes depending on a Force of his own: Destiny Force. He was fated to make this shot.

Wasn't he?

Katie's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Funny how things work out, isn't it?"

Wes thought back over the last couple of days and grinned. "You don't know the half of it."

She chuckled. "No thanks to you. I do know, courtesy of your lovely son, that all this is familiar to you from a motion picture."

"Made by our friend Ben," Wes added. "Apparently he decides to record Earth's hidden history. Equally apparently he makes it roughly as accurate as history usually is recorded, which is to say, only just recognizable. I become a whiny twenty-something, Zordon a dashing con man, and you a princess with cinnamon buns on your head."

She shot him a look. "Excuse me?"

Wes grinned. "You heard me. And we all fall in love with you."

Katie's attention returned to the controls, but not before Wes caught a glimpse of a smile. "Well, at least that bit's accurate."

Movement overhead caught his attention as Rick glided smoothly into position in front of them. The comm. crackled to life. "Red Two in position, Red Leader," Rick said, and Wes could hear the grin in his son's voice.

Katie shook her head. "I know we're all having fun, but try to stay focused, Red Two."

"Red Three, on your port wing," came another voice. Wes looked left to see Alice give him a nod.

"Red Four, in position," said Namir. Wes and Katie grinned as Namir gave them a gloved salute through his cockpit shield.

Gold and Blue squadrons checked in, confirming that they were in position for the Tantalis approach: Gold from the south and Blue from the west. "Okay," said Wes, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	9. Return?

Return?

Alice shifted in the pilot's seat of her X-Wing as they flew towards Tyr Tantalis. A staple of her early teens had been the X-Wing novels Michael A. Stackpole and Aaron Alston, but she was no Wedge Antilles. She had a feeling that flying them in combat for real was going to be vastly harder. The controls, at least, were familiar enough, thanks to the info dumping Frax had done -- they looked, and felt, like the controls of Zord fliers she might have controlled, had she been a 'proper' ranger, like her parents had been -- but...

Over the comm., she heard Rick's voice, full of barely stifled laughter, announce, "Red two in position, Red Leader."

Risking a quick glance in the direction of the twin-seater craft to her right, she saw Katie shaking her head a little. A moment later, she heard, "I know we're all having fun, but try to stay focussed, Red Two."

"Red Three, on your port wing," Alice reported in.

"Red Four, in position." Namir sounded nervous -- but then he'd sounded nervous in the TOI and he'd come through that with flying colours. He'd be fine.

She heard Gold and Blue squadrons also reporting in. The other two squadrons were attacking from the south and west of the city respectively and were, essentially, decoys -- that way, the Atlanteans wouldn't be sure which wing was the one actually going for the Death Tower. _At least,_ Alice mused as she followed Rick's lead towards the Atlantean capital, _that's the theory._

The flight computer bleeped, indicating sixty seconds until entry into Tantalis airspace. _Here we go..._

Rick put his fighter into a steep dive to come in under the defensive shield. Alice followed suit, knowing Katie and Namir were also doing so. Instinctively, she reinforced her forward shielding, but as they came into Tantalis airspace, she found herself rapidly shunting the power aft as a positive cloud of tie fighters swarmed up behind them.

_Holy shit!_ Her sensors immediately started yelping that she'd got something on her tail. A moment later and Wes' voice came over the comm., telling her that. _Tell me something I don't know! OK, Ali. Think -- what would Wedge do right now?_ She started to jink left and right, evading weapons lock even as she found herself grinning at the absurdity of her last thought. _Dad is going to have a ball when I tell him this..._

Hauling back on the stick and accelerating, she pulled her fighter up and over in a tight, fast loop. 

"Point of interest," Namir announced, as she completed the manoeuvre and came out behind the fighter that had been pursuing her. "The life signs match up to what we found at the TOI."

"Clones?" Alice asked, lining up the targeting brackets over her quarry.

"Not even that sophisticated," came the answer, even as Namir scored his first kill. "Definitely synthetic, though."

"Excellent." The bracket went red, indicating a solid lock. Alice fired and pulled up to avoid the resultant explosion. Two more fighters appeared in front of her, heading straight towards her.

The two oncoming fighters both opened up with their lasers and though they did no damage -- the shots all hastily aimed and snapped off -- it was enough to put her into evasive manoeuvres. 

She kicked her fighter up onto its port S-foils and slid it through, between the oncoming fighters. Then, banking sharply to the right, she came up on the tail of one of the fighters. Her first shot boiled off a section of the armour plating on one of the fighter's fins, while the second cored through the main body of the fighter. _The Emperor really shoulda considered putting shields on those things,_ Alice found herself thinking as she pulled up, over the resultant explosion. She smiled. _Wonder what Stackpole would say if he knew ties and X-wings really were as manoeuvrable as he'd made them out to be?_

Another warning tone sounded, indicating she'd attracted another fighter on her tail. _Jeez, what am I? A tie magnet?_ This one was obviously being piloted by a slightly more intelligent clone as it clung to her like glue.

"Ali watch yourself," Rick warned.

"I am doing," Alice retorted, making her fighter practically dance to avoid weapons lock -- not that the lack of same was preventing the fighter on her tail from firing anyway, which was gradually nibbling away at her shields.

"Head bearing three-one-two," instructed Wes, "then break hard to starboard."

Alice did as she was told and for a second found herself facing the wrong end of Wes' lasers, then she broke hard to starboard. The fighter on her tail followed, but was picked off by Wes' expert shooting.

"Thanks Wes."

~*~

"Closing in," said Katie. "Best load up that concussion charge, let the kids take care of business."

"On it," said Wes, typing in the configuration code for the charge. "Rick, you copy?"

"Yeah. Reading land-based defence systems, Dad. Fall back a bit, lemme clear some air space for you."

"Falling back," said Katie, suiting action to words. As Wes finished creating the computer linkup for the concussion charge, Rick's X-Wing accelerated to ground attack speed. Wes watched as his son put the craft into a steep dive towards the first ground based tower, lasers blazing. The first tower went up explosively, leaving behind a plume of oily black smoke. The second tower followed soon after. Then a third as Rick pulled round in a wide, arcing turn, strafing anything on the ground that looked as if it was liable to shoot back.

Suddenly the enemy fighters pulled away. There was a whine from above, a bright flash, and the upper portion of the starboard S-foil on Rick's fighter exploded. Wes' heart stopped, only to sputter back to life when he heard his son's urgent voice. "I'm hit!" The fighter wobbled, then stabilized.

"Pull out, Red Two!" Another series of blasts screamed across the sky, targeting the crippled X-wing. Wes cursed succinctly. "Roll it, Kate!" 

She gave a nod; the big fighter did a barrel roll and stayed upside down for a moment, giving Wes an excellent view of the black and chrome ship that was trying to kill his son.

Ransik. Had to be.

Wes snarled and took the concussion charge offline, thumbing the blasters. The first array skittered and jumped across invisible shielding; the second, hard on the heels of the first, scarred up the ship's surface.

There was a burst of light practically in Wes' lap; he was thrown back into the bulkhead, and then there were a whole bunch of stars exploding behind his eyelids.

"Wes!" someone screamed. The world tilted and spun.

His head was pounding and there was something warm sliding down the side of his face; Wes groaned. "'Mokay," he managed. He wiped at his face. Blood. Wes got to his knees and crawled back to the gunner pit, but it was essentially slag. Sparking slag. He groaned again.

"Dad! DAD!" Rick's voice was frantic.

"Dammit, Red Two, get out of here! That's a goddamn order!" hollered Wes. He watched the crippled ship peel away. "Namir, you're with Rick. Make sure he gets back to base. Ali, you're on point. Keep an eye on that ship and keep your shields up to full." This surely wasn't how Luke had done it, but who the hell cared?

"What now?" Katie's clipped tone was belied by the concern in her brown eyes.

"Now," said Wes, getting to his feet slowly, "we improvise."

A few moments later he thumbed his comm. again. "Alice?"

"Right here."

"You up for a little bluff?"

He could hear her grin. "Always."

Wes gave a nod. "Okay. I need some time to get the concussion charge reconfigured over to the aft gun. And we're gonna have to change our flight plan pretty radically."

There was a brief pause. "You want me to engage the black ship?"

"Just long enough for us to get this in place."

"You got it."

"Ali." Wes took a breath. "Be damn careful, okay?"

There was a chuckle. "Love you too, Wes." The X-wing swerved off, guns blazing. 

Katie, meanwhile, was flying erratically, making it look like the blast had taken out more than just the forward gun. In the remaining gunner pit Wes kept one eye on the targeting screen while he began to configure the aft gun. "C'mon, c'mon, Ransik, you're not that smart. Take the bait like a nice villain." He could almost feel the hesitation in the black craft. What was Ransik thinking? Why was he still on their tail?

Red Three screamed by overhead, all engines full, heading straight for the tower that had appeared on the horizon. "What the hell's she doing?" yelled Katie.

"Making it look like she's the go instead of us," Wes hollered back over the sounds of blaster fire. Alice dodged and wove between the deadly beams like she was knitting a scarf. Dots appeared in the sky ahead; small, X-shaped dots, all of them lighting up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

"Running out of room, Wes," Katie warned. "Once I go past the tower I'm gonna have to roll tight to get us close enough to the target. You get about a three-second window before Ransik figures out what we're doing, maybe less."

"I know, I know." Wes punched in the final configuration with relief.

Nothing happened. "Dammit!"

"What?"

"The blast took out more than I thought. I'm gonna have to reroute again, find a clean circuit path."

Katie made an aggravated noise. "Have we got a clean circuit path?"

"Sure." Wes paused. She was going to hate this. "The shields haven't been touched."

There was a long pause. "I hate that."

"Yeah."

"We don't have enough time."

"Nope."

"Without shields we're sitting ducks for Ransik."

"Yup."

Katie sighed. "Do it."

Wes smiled tightly. "Already on it." His hands were shaking, which was no help at all. He blew out a breath and began recoding the weapons array. There was more that he had purposely not mentioned to Katie, hoping she wouldn't realize it: not only would they not have shields, but he'd have to take the aft blasters offline to reroute the concussion charge targeting matrix. If Ransik decided to go after them, they'd have nothing. 

"T-minus two minutes, Wes. We're gonna come in hot and roll hard, so you better buckle up." There was a pause. "Oh, and please don't tell me you're having to take the aft blasters offline too."

Wes mouthed several bad words. "Okay."

Katie's voice dripped with suspicion. "Okay, you're not taking the blasters offline?"

Wes sighed. "Okay, I won't tell you."

"I knew you were going to say that." 

The comm. crackled. "Wes... took... both ...ort engines... can't..." and then the sound of Alice's voice dissolved into static.

Wes bounded out of the gunner pit. "Can you see her anywhere?" he demanded. 

Katie was equally agitated. "I'm trying to get a lock on her signal... there." She checked her tracking screen and then pointed out the windscreen. Silhouetted against the setting sun, Alice's X-wing was leaking smoke into the air. She had some backup from Gold and Blue, but even at this distance it was clear that it was all the girl could do to stay in the air.

And Ransik was on his way.

"GrrrrrAGH!" was about all Wes could manage as he slid back into the pit and fumbled with the keypad, trying to get the coding right. "Go in hotter if you can, Kate! We have to get our shot!"

"Going goddamn volcanic, Wes!" He could feel the engines squeal as she pushed it to the max. The fighter heeled well over as Katie took half the roll heading in; Wes realized it was so she'd have less momentum to fight on the spin to aim the aft gunner pit toward the tower.

Blaster fire streaked past Wes' startled gaze. "Shit shitSHIT!" he yelled, bracing for impact.

"YEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAA!" A tracer missile lit up the sky and nailed Ransik's starboard thruster array, and the black and chrome ship went spinning into the stratosphere. "You're all clear, Babyface," came Zordon's extremely welcome baritone over the secure Alliance commlink. "Blow this sucker and let's get the hell out of here!" The Falconzord waggled its wings at him and wheeled off toward the Alliance base.

The Death Tower shot past the ship; Wes could feel the twin-seater shudder as Katie struggled with the controls to roll the rest of the way over. The entire fighter shook and shimmied like two angry bulldogs in a bag. 

Wes nudged the targeting matrix over his eyes. Yeah, yeah, he remembered this part. "Use the Force, my ass," he muttered, depressing the discharge. 

The phenomenon of time expanding to slow motion was one that Wes had experienced before. He hated it.

He stared at the targeting matrix. Was it... would it...

Katie's yell registered before the actual fact. "Direct hit! Nice shot, Wes!"

Wes watched as a dark cloud rumbled from the base of the tower. "Get us out of here, Kate!"

The twin-seater wheeled neatly and was at max speed before Wes could get his breath. He watched the Death Tower from the aft pit. It seemed to... wobble, and drift slightly...

The top of the tower blossomed suddenly, four stone petals peeling back to reveal a sight Wes never expected to see again. The head of a huge, black and gold serpent... Wes blinked, hard. Not a serpent.

Serpenterra.

"But then that would mean... the Emperor... holy crap." Wes was muttering to himself, keeping an eye on the monstrosity as it lifted into the sky. Serpenterra stretched out its long neck and roared, reaching toward space.

Something dropped from the metallic creature and hit the middle of Tyr Tantalis with an odd whoosh. Something like a heat wave scudded out from the centre of the hit, rippling across the land below as though a pebble had been dropped into a pond.

Wes frowned. This was probably not good.

Below him there was a low rumble, and then a huge crack developed in the landscape, splintering out from the receding silhouette of Tyr Tantalis Prime, spreading as far as Wes could see. The very earth shook.

Definitely not good. 

For a cataclysm, it didn't take long, but the time it did take was horrifying. Wes tried not to think about how many people Tommy's old nemesis, Lord Zedd, Serpenterra's master, had just destroyed in his escape. The farmland, the desert plains, everything up to the edge of the tropical rainforest just... broke, cracked, thundered apart and sank, the wild and hissing seas swallowing it all in a fiery, smoky dance of destruction.

"Oh, my God," said Wes quietly, and he meant it. The fighter slowed, then came to hover. He jerked his head up and clambered from the gunner pit. "Katie? What's...?"

She sent him a stricken look. Hovering directly in the centre of her windscreen was a large, black and chrome ship, so close Wes could see Ransik's triumphant grin. And according to the readout at Katie's elbow, he was charging his weapons.

So this was it, then. Wes put his hand on Katie's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, sending a mental wave of love to his wife and his children. "It's been fun," he whispered to Katie.

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, a smile on her lips. "The best."

Wes closed his eyes and held his breath. The explosion came, deafening in its intensity. Funny, Wes thought, death didn't hurt as much as he'd expected. Everything was very quiet, sort of peaceful...

Sound pierced the shroud of silence. Someone was shouting. Wes opened one eye, then realized with surprise that he still had an eye to open. He looked around with astonishment. They were okay, Katie was okay, just as flabbergasted as he was to still be in one piece, and outside the windscreen...

Was just the remains of an explosion, sparks and smoke and bits of Ransik falling toward the roiling ocean.

A shadow loomed overhead; Wes and Katie craned their necks upward.

The comm. crackled. "Geez, I leave you alone for five minutes... You owe me, Babyface." Wes started to laugh. "Come on," said Zordon. "Let's get you home."

~*~

The ceremony Ackbar insisted on holding was nowhere near as big or impressive as the one at the end of the movie, but it was every bit as embarrassing for Wes. He could see why the Admiral wanted to hand out plaudits to all and sundry; the world always needed heroes to praise in the face of tragedy, and the loss of a continent, even a small one, more than qualified. Heroes filled a real need in the collective psyche of any society.

Wes just wished he didn't have to be one of them. 

"Y'know Dad, if you blush any harder you're gonna have an aneurysm," Rick mumbled out of the corner of his mouth as they waited to go down an aisle, at the end of which Ackbar waited to present them with the Order of the Squid or something.

Wes shot his son a dirty look, which softened as it rested on the sling Rick's arm was in. "You holding up okay?"

Rick smiled. "I'm fine, Red Worrywart Ranger. This is nothing -- wait 'til Mom gets a load of you with that gash on your head."

"That," Wes said airily, "is why I plan on having a chat with Ven Evore before we go home for good."

The ceremony was taking place outside the pyramid, in a sort of ruined temple picturesquely overhung with vines and blowsy red flowers. The only jarring note in the scene was a stack of round, red waste containment receptacles lined up along one wall, and even that just added local colour. 

Alice, meanwhile, was chatting with Zordon, trying, Wes was sure, to store up as much as she could to tell her own mother when she got back. Dimi and Katie were standing quietly together, and Ben was all but taking notes.

"It would be better," Wes heard him mutter to himself, "if Ackbar were pretty. And there ought to be some really majestic music." Wes chuckled to himself, and then Ackbar beckoned them.

Zordon was the real hero of the day, and he relished the attention and the praise being flung at his head. And he deserved every word, thought Wes. His and Katie's goose had been well and truly cooked, twice. If it hadn't been for Zordon... 

The ceremony concluded, and most of the crowd trickled away. Wes caught up with the handsome pilot. "Hey."

Zordon turned with a grin. "Hey, Babyface." He nodded toward Rick. "Nice kid."

"We like him." Wes smiled. "Listen, 'Don, I just wanted to say... thanks."

The other man blushed, but there was a sheepish smile on his face. "I should be thanking you, actually. You made me do some thinking, Wes, about a lot of stuff. Seeing what you went through for a friend... made me think maybe friends like you are worth having." He blushed harder and shrugged. "Made me realize that there's more to life than having things, getting away with stuff. I dunno." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I know I sound like a sap; but I also know... you and me, we won't be seeing each other again, so..." Zordon shrugged again, his blue eyes steady.

Wes stared. "Who are you and what have you done with Zordon of Eltar?"

Zordon laughed. "Aw, shut up."

Ben came up, all smiles, both hands out. "I expect you'll be heading back now, eh, Wes?"

He nodded. "Soon, I guess. Been nice knowing you, George. Ben," Wes corrected himself. "Listen, a couple of things I wanted to tell you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Wes folded his arms. "First of all, small, furry, bearlike creatures are not cute, they're saccharine." Ben looked absolutely bewildered. "Second, and this is an important one, comic aliens with zany speech impediments are not amusing, they're annoying."

"Wes!" That was Alice hurrying over, who'd clearly head the last bit. "Hello, Destiny Force? Knock that off." To Ben she added, "Just forget what he said, okay?"

To himself Ben murmured, "Small, bearlike creatures...? What a cute idea..."

Dimi approached Wes, signs of inner struggle on her pretty face. "You okay?" Wes asked, curiously. 

She nodded, her lips twisting. Dimi gripped her hands together and opened her mouth, taking a deep breath. There was a pause, and then she finally got it out. "Goodbye, Wes. And thank you." Dimi finished with a sigh and a beatific smile.

Wes grinned. "Can't help it, huh?"

She grinned back. "Do you think I'd speak only in questions on purpose?"

Wes chuckled and linked his arm through hers.

They strolled outside the pyramid to join Namir and the others. "I don't get it," Namir was saying. "There ought to be a timeship. The tower's down, Ransik's dead... I don't get it. What else could there be for you guys to do?"

For answer a figure stepped out from behind a half-tumbled wall, a blaster in her hands. "I have a suggestion." 

_Good grief_, thought Wes. Boba Fett to the life, with one relatively minor exception: this was a woman. If her long silver braid hanging below her helmet didn't give it away, her strident, annoying voice would have.

Everybody reached for their own weapons; thanks to the ceremony, nobody had one. Wes stepped forward, his chin up. "What do you want?"

She chuckled unpleasantly. "You," she said, and fired.

"NO!" yelled Zordon, tackling Wes around the midsection. The blast caught him full in the back, sparking and skittering over his body as it slumped to the ground.

Without another thought Wes was up and after the woman, heedless of danger, of anything except that Zordon had just gone three for three, only this time he'd run out of luck. With a growl he threw the assassin to the ground, disarming her. He tore off her helmet: her features were Asian, but she was nobody Wes had seen before. "Who the hell are you, you repulsive bitch?"

For answer she just snarled at him. 

"I don't have time for this," he said, pissed. Wes dragged the woman over to the waste receptacles and dropped her into one, securing the lid. "That ought to hold you for a while." He ran back to the group huddled around Zordon. "Is he...?"

Ben broke away, shouldering past him. "I'll get a doctor."

Wes looked down, horrified by what he found. "Oh... oh, damn..."

He was still sparking, jerking occasionally as though in spasm. Zordon's skin had gone dead white, thick and opaque looking; his once-handsome head of hair had vanished. Eyebrows and eyelashes were gone as well.

Wes knelt. "Hang in there, Zordon." The pilot convulsed, his lips trying to form words. "Come on, buddy, take it easy. The doctor's on the way."

"Correction," came clipped British tones. "The Doctor is here." A tall, lanky figure with wild curly hair and an impossibly long scarf knelt next to Wes, examining Zordon. He looked up at Ben. "Let's get him to the TARDIS; we'll pop him in a time warp until we see what we can do." Bearing the prone body of the fallen Zordon between them, Ben and the Doctor moved back toward the pyramid.

Wes watched them go. "Dammit."

Katie put a hand on his arm. "He'll be okay, Wes. He won't be the man he was, but... he'll be who he's meant to be, now. Which means we'll all be who we're meant to be."

"I know," said Wes with a sigh. "But it still sucks." Katie nodded.

A bruise-collared hole appeared in the sky. "Hey!" said Namir.

Rick looked at his father. "What do we do about the chick in the dumpster?"

"Leave her there. Someone will figure out what to do with her." Wes sighed and shook his head. "Let's go home."

~*~

Eric wasn't sure when it started to happen. It was a gradual process -- a little akin to waking up, except that he had no sense of having been truly asleep. In fact, he realised; he had no real sense of anything. He couldn't even pinpoint his last memory prior to this slow ascent into consciousness. Which would have been disturbing, except that he couldn't seem to muster the strength to care.

And it was a slow ascent. They -- whoever 'they' were -- seemed to be bringing him around in very careful stages. So careful and so orderly that it almost seemed natural. Almost.

First had come feeling. The sensation of lying down, flat on his back. The feeling of soft, cotton sheets covering him. The texture of a firm yet comfortable mattress supporting him. The sense that he wasn't naked beneath the sheets. The gentle pressure on his left wrist that indicated bandaging.

'They' had allowed him to become used to that sense then they had slowly started to feed in hearing. No harsh bleeps, no loud shouts, no heavy footsteps, but the gentle sound of someone breathing. He listened to the rhythm and judged it matched the feeling of his own chest rising and falling. His own breathing, then.

He had adjusted to that and 'they' had responded by feeding in a third sense: smell. A faint tang of antiseptic hit his nose along with a whisper of citrus and musk and the fainter hint of food on its way. **That** woke up his stomach with no other outside help and it growled. Loudly.

'They' now fed in more stimulant and he found his mind finally reaching full consciousness. A moment or two passed and he could connect most of the data he'd processed. He was in some sort of medical facility. 'They' had to be medics -- which probably explained the reason why he was coming round so slowly. The citrus-and-musk smell, he realised, meant Kimberly had been here at some point. What he could hear told him he was currently alone. Putting that together with the faint smell of food suggested that it was mealtime and Kimberly was taking advantage of that. Knowing Kimberly, probably not entirely voluntarily.

It was almost without realising it that he hit the final level of consciousness. The one that enabled him to remember the immediate past -- at least in snatches at any rate. Being arrested. The interrogation. The imprisonment. Being rescued. Having his body not-so-slowly fail him as the tmazacol did its work. He shivered. Was that over?

There was something else slightly strange. He hadn't noticed it at first but now he was more aware, he realised that at no point did he have any impulse to try and confirm any of the information he'd taken in through his other senses by opening his eyes and looking. Even now he'd noted that oddity, Eric still felt no need or desire to open his eyes. Almost to spite himself, he tried to do just that...and found he couldn't. Not 'couldn't because his eyelids were being held shut in someway' just couldn't. Almost as if, at some point during his unconsciousness, his brain had forgotten how his eyes worked.

As if that wasn't strange enough, his reaction to that discovery was even stranger. He didn't have one. Logically he knew that he should be feeling fear at this point. At the very least, he should be anxious to know what was going on. And he wasn't.

_Drugs,_ he finally decided. _They've got me on some sort of Prozac type thing, I guess._

He heard footsteps making their way along a tiled hallway, heading in his direction. Perhaps this would herald explanations. The tap-tap of heels came closer then stopped, probably about six or seven yards away and to his left. Doorway of his room, perhaps?

"Eric?"

He'd suspected the owner of the footsteps was female, hearing her voice confirmed it. The voice was familiar, though it took a few moments before he associated a name to it: Ven Evore. Lucas' task force doctor. She must have found a way to heal the damage.

She properly entered the room and came up to the bed. "How're you feeling?"

"Not really sure," Eric admitted. "Confused."

"That's understandable." He felt her take hold of his right wrist. Metal was pressed against it. "I'm just taking pulse and blood pressure readings," she explained. "Which are all normal," she added. "Are you in any pain?"

"No...but..." Eric trailed off, hesitating. "You've got me on happy juice, don't you?"

"Happy juice?" Ven echoed, amused. "Is that a reference to something in the twenty-first century?"

In spite of himself, Eric smiled a little. "Not exactly. 'S just...I ought to be scared spitless with everything I don't know about my situation and I'm not. It's kinda disconcerting."

"Ah." His wrist was released and a moment later he heard the telltale scrape and squeak of someone sitting down in a chair. "Yes, you are on some intravenous drugs, one of which is currently helping to suppress anxiety. That was more a measure for while you were unconscious and you are being slowly taken off it -- but it'll take a couple of hours for it to leave your system. By which time," she added, "I'm hoping that you'll understand what's happened."

"Which is?" Eric asked.

There was a moment of silence. Eric guessed Ven was collecting her thoughts. "How much do you remember?"

"I remember about the tmazacol," he replied quietly. "I'm a little hazy on how far the damage went...but I know it was killing me."

"There is no easy way to say this," Ven answered, "but there was a period of about two minutes where you were clinically dead."

Despite the anxiety suppressant, Eric shivered. "That bad?"

"That bad," Ven agreed. "The good news is, the damage is all healed. A couple of days to recover your strength and you should be just about as good as new."

"Just about?" Eric echoed.

Ven sighed. "You may find you have a few, minor, balance problems for a few days once you're up and about -- your hearing was one of the last areas to fail, but the tmazacol did quite a bit of damage to your inner ear and auditory nerves so, while the damage is healed, it may still take a couple of days for things to truly settle down."

"OK so far," Eric said quietly. "I'm thinking there's still a shoe to drop."

There was a lengthy pause. "The damage done to your optical nerves was far more extensive than the damage done to your inner ear. I was able to repair the damage, to the best of my ability, but..."

"I'm blind."

"Not exactly," Ven corrected. "You should be able to see, albeit with a certain degradation to your vision -- nothing major, just something that would require reading glasses."

"Should?"

"Should," Ven confirmed with a sigh.

"But?" Eric prompted.

"There's a condition, called hysterical blindness," said Ven. 

The anxiety blocker might still be in his system, but it didn't prevent a lead weight settling on his chest. "What do you mean?"

There was another lengthy pause. Ven presumably wanted to pick her words carefully. "I don't know what was done to you in the TOI -- at least not beyond the obvious and physical -- but at some point, something made your brain decide not to trust visual input. Essentially, you blinded yourself."

What the hell had happened that he would have done that to himself? For a second, Eric frowned, trying to remember, but it was no good. His time in the TOI was just a mess of fragmented memories and a haze of pain.

"You...you can fix it, right?" This was the future. They had advanced technology. They had a cure for goddamn concussion -- they had to be able to fix this. Right? "Right?"

He heard Ven swallow. "It's -- it's not a medical condition," she said. "There is nothing **to** fix."

Eric felt sick. "What do you mean?"

"The physical damage **is** healed; the psychological damage will heal but it will take time."

"Well how much time?" A spark of anger flared.

"I don't know, Eric. I really don't know. It could be now. It could be next week. It could be three weeks from now..."

"It could be never." The anger died; quenched by a deep, soul-burning depression. "I get it."

He heard Ven sigh. "I have done...will do everything I can to help you with it. I..."

"Leave." The word was a flat, toneless command.

It obviously surprised Ven. She uttered a soft sound, almost a squeak. "Are..."

"Leave. Please." Eric swallowed. "Give me time to think," he whispered.

There was a pause. Finally, Ven answered, "OK." 

She walked away, but he barely heard her leave. Blind. Helpless -- maybe not completely, but certainly not independent. Useless.

Broken.

It would have been kinder if the tmazacol had done its full course.

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	10. Repeat?

Repeat?

There was, Ven felt, a certain amount of déjà vu to this situation. It wasn't identical to the day before. For one thing, the welcoming committee was down to just one person: her. Still, it was similar enough to send a chill down her spine as the transport came in to land. This time, though, there was nothing to go wrong when the transport touched down.

_No, that gets saved for when everyone gets out._ Ven grimaced. This was the side of being a doctor that really sucked. Having to convey bad news.

First out of the transport was Lucas, with Rob, closely followed by Rick and Alice, who were arm in arm and laughing. _Oh, damn..._ Ven grimaced again. _Definitely not good to be the bearer of bad tidings._ Behind them, Wes, then Namir and Katie, then finally Al. Even the normally dour Al looked happy. Wes and Rick both looked a little banged up -- but nothing serious -- and Katie didn't seem to have a scratch on her.

Ven sighed. This wasn't going to be fun.

"Where's mom?" Alice asked. "Or are she and dad...?" she trailed off with a slightly lascivious roll of her eyes.

Ven smiled faintly, wishing that was what Eric and Kimberly were doing. "I have good news, and I have bad news." Alice looked as if she'd suddenly been sucker punched. So did Wes. "The good news is that Eric will recover. A couple of days resting and he should be just about fully fit."

"Ven, what's the bad news?" Wes asked.

Ven sighed. "Something...happened to Eric in the TOI. I don't know what...I don't think he knows what. His...subconscious...'decided' he was better off...not seeing."

~*~

_"What do you mean he's blind?"_ Kimberly had been stunned when Ven had first told her.

_"It's not blindness per se,"_ Ven had responded. _"It's hysterical blindness. Psychological."_ Ven had sighed. _"Whatever it was that happened to him left a very, very deep wound."_

_"But...he'll be OK?"_

Ven had sighed again. _"The mind heals at a different pace to the rest of the body. Eric will get his sight back. But it's going to take time and patience."_

Kimberly sighed, returning to the present. She'd been sitting beside the bio-bed for more than an hour -- talking at first, but at the lack of a response, she'd gradually drifted into silence -- and Eric had yet to say a word to her. He was just 'staring' into space. The only comforting thing to his silence was that his eyes were back to their proper, deep brown/black colour rather than that disconcerting white.

And after over an hour of unresponsive silence, even that wasn't truly comforting.

_This isn't fair._

~*~

"So you're saying I'm stuck like this."

Zordon winced at the sound of the voice coming from the time warp tube. It wasn't his voice, but an artificial construct that enabled him to communicate, albeit imperfectly. The Doctor and Ben had somehow interfaced the matrix of the warp with his mind and the matrix 'spoke' for him, usually just a few seconds after Zordon had finished speaking, creating the illusion that Zordon's mouth wasn't synchronized with the rest of reality. And the voice itself was nothing like Zordon's own: deep, booming, it sounded much more authoritative than Zordon had ever felt.

But it was better than dead. At least he thought it was. And maybe he'd grow into the voice in time.

Ben sighed and nodded. "I'm sorry, 'Don. The type of disruptor Rita used -- "

"**Who** did you say?" Zordon interrupted.

"The assassin has identified herself as Rita, no surname." Ben consulted a readout. "Most inconvenient for the database."

Zordon shrugged, even though he knew Ben could only see his head. "So make one up. What was it Wes called her?"

"A repulsive... well, that's good enough, isn't it?" Ben grinned and added the surname to the file. He glanced up at the huge tube. "Anyway, what I started to say is, the disruptor Rita used on you is a progressive type, actually breaking up the electrical signals given off by your individual cells, destroying your cellular structure one cell at a time. The warp tube you're in has effectively stopped time for you, halting the damage. Unfortunately, well..."

Zordon finished for him. "I'm stuck like this. Indefinitely."

"I'm afraid so." Ben nodded sadly. "However, we've interfaced your matrix to these computer systems, which gives you access to a lot of information. Plus you've got this Viewing Globe, which is connected to a cloaked network of satellites. You can essentially see anything anywhere on the planet if you choose."

"Why?" It wasn't that he wasn't grateful for all the tech keeping him alive and functional, but if there was one thing Zordon had learned, it was that nobody got to ride for free.

Ben scratched his beard. "The Alliance has appointed you Keeper of this world."

"Whoa! Hold up, bub. Keeper? Of the whole damn planet?" Zordon shook his head.

"No way! I don't want that kind of responsibility! I'm not ready for that!"

Ben smiled. "You will be. You've got time."

After a while, during which he concluded that he wasn't getting out of it, Zordon made a face and changed the subject. "So what about what's her name, then?"

"Rita?" Ben shrugged. "Up to you, really. What do you want done with her?"

The grin that decorated Zordon's face wasn't evil. Not completely, anyway. "How 'bout you fix up that waste drum with another little time warp thingie and stick her somewhere safe, somewhere far away. Really far away. Like the moon." It was not an entirely serious suggestion.

Ben thought about it. "Okay."

Zordon blinked. That was easy, and pretty satisfying, actually._ Maybe this Keeper thing wouldn't be such a bad gig after all._ "Ben... you said Wes was from the future, didn't you?"

Ben was busy at the computer. "Mmmhm," he said absently.

"Will I see him again, you think?"

Ben froze in place for a moment, then went on with what he was doing. "It's possible."

_Meaning no_, Zordon thought to himself. _Oh well. It was a lot to ask for._ "Could you give him something for me, then?"

Ben glanced up at him. "I ought to say no, you know. There are rules about this sort of thing."

"Rules, schmules."

Ben chuckled. "I know. Okay, I'll do it if I can."

"You're the best, George." Zordon looked around for his 'bot. "Alpha, can you put a disc in?"

"I'll leave you to it, shall I?" Ben folded his hands inside his sleeves and left the control room. Alpha 'ai-yi-yi'ed around a bit, and then he left too, and it was just Zordon.

He took a deep breath. "Hey, Wes, thought you might want to know how things turned out..."

~*~

Wes had barely waited for Ven to finish explaining the basics before heading straight for the medi-centre. Alice would have followed suit, he knew, except that as he left, he'd heard Ven stopping her -- telling her that Kimberly had asked for Alice to wait.

He wished she'd said the same thing to him, now.

He felt physically sick as he stood in the doorway of the medi-centre. He'd thought the last twenty-four hours had robbed him of what little capacity he had left for being shocked, but the occupant of the bio-bed proved him wrong.

When Wes had first met Eric, the other man -- boy -- had been a shy newcomer. But even then, shy as he'd been, there had still been an air of inward confidence. Over time, that confidence had changed from something inward to something very outward -- to something used to keep people at arms' length -- and even when Eric had finally made peace with himself and with the world in general, just prior to the Rancho Diablo fiasco, it had remained.

Until now.

Wes found himself looking at someone pushed beyond his limits. At someone who'd finally had the confidence beaten out of him. At an Eric Myers too broken to even be angry.

It was a sight that left Wes feeling a sense of complete helplessness and guilt. Helplessness was easy to quantify: This wasn't something he could wish away with money or fix with influence borrowed from his father. But the guilt. That went deeper.

If Wes was being honest about it -- and this situation demanded honesty if nothing else -- Eric wasn't a friend. The relationship ran far deeper than that. They were brothers in just about every way barring blood. They fought like siblings, squabbled like any pair of brothers, yet when it counted, each was there when the other needed him.

Except this time, Wes hadn't been.

And though Wes knew full well it hadn't been his fault -- it had been The Master who'd abducted him and sent him back ten thousand years -- that didn't stop him from feeling guilty. Silently, he promised himself that he was going to find The Master and make sure that what was left was fit only for putting into a very, very, very small box.

He must have made a small sound, because the other occupant of the room, Kimberly, suddenly looked round. She offered him a faint smile in welcome, then uncurled herself from her seat and moved away from the bio-bed.

Eric didn't so much as twitch.

"You're back," she said softly. "OK?"

Wes smiled wryly. "Well, no broken bones and no real loss to my sanity."

"Good." Kimberly sighed. "If you're back, that must mean so is Alice -- I need to speak to her...explain..." Kimberly closed her eyes. "How do you explain this?" 

Wes had no answer. Instead he gently drew her out into the hallway proper and asked, "What's actually wrong?"

Kimberly opened her eyes again, shrugging. "We don't know." 

~*~

Taylor reached Ben's office just as Ben appeared out of it, presumably looking for her.

"Sorry -- got caught by the phone," she said before he could open his mouth.

He offered a tight smile. "No worries. C'mon in."

Taylor followed Ben into the office. Already waiting were Jen, Zaskin, Gina and Mr Collins. His attendance was something of a surprise to Taylor. She took it to be an indicator of just how bad the situation was.

"OK," said Ben, as Taylor sat down, "the reason for this meeting is to bring you guys up to date on the official situation. And I guess I don't need to say things ain't looking good. As of midnight last night, Silverhills County was placed in full quarantine. San Luis Obispo, Monterey, Kings, Kern and Western Fresno counties are all under severe travel restrictions. In those, the National Guard are being mobilised to help with that, as are the Guardians in Mariner Bay and Angel Grove. As far as the situation here in Silverhills County goes, we, SPD and the guys from the CDC, who're arriving first thing tomorrow morning from Atlanta, are it -- they were going to deploy the National Guard here too," Ben paused to grimace, "but they're all sick." 

"Wow," said Zaskin, stunned. "It's that bad?"

"It's worse," said Taylor. "Reason I'm late is I just had a call from Jason over in Angel Grove."

"Uh-oh," murmured Jen.

Taylor nodded. "Angel Grove itself isn't in quarantine, but a full half of his roster of Guardians live in Silverhills County."

"Ouch." Zaskin winced.

"Hold up, though," said Ben thoughtfully. "If they're in Silverhills County..."

"Jason was going to call them and tell them to report here tomorrow -- which gives me the rest of today to work up new shift rosters," Taylor finished. "It's not bad as far as we're concerned -- but it leaves Jase a bit stuck."

Ben shrugged. "Not a heap we can do about it -- though Jason's a resourceful guy. He'll probably figure something." He sighed. "How many Guardians are we down by?"

Taylor looked down at the list she'd grabbed on her way out of her office. "Today's count is fifty one out of ninety."

Jen winced. "That's over half."

"And even assuming all of Jason's guys are fit, that only bolsters our roster by thirty."

"And the chances of all the AG guys being fit are zip," said Ben. 

"Right." Taylor nodded.

"Michael, how does the R&D department stand?" Ben asked.

"Fairly healthy as of yet," Zaskin answered. "Every available member of the team is looking into finding out what this virus is -- and working on someway to neutralise it -- but it's slow going. We can't even figure out if it's airborne, or..." The frustrated scientist shrugged.

"Which," put in Mr Collins, who had so far simply listened to the conversation, "is about as successful as the R&D department over at Biolab's main facility." He paused and looked at Jen. "Are we on our own for this?"

"The last time I spoke to Lucas, which was yesterday, when he confirmed Eric was safe and well, he didn't say anything about this," Jen answered. "That could mean this is nothing to do with anything..."

"And passing the window right about now will be squadron 316, porcine division," Gina murmured, prompting a couple of snickers.

"Or that they don't yet know anything about it," Jen finished.

"Is that likely?" Taylor queried.

"Flat out not knowing, probably not," said Jen. "But knowing anything that would be remotely helpful, probably. Lucas won't want to tell us anything until he can actually help the situation."

"Any word on when they're likely to be back?" Gina asked.

Jen shook her head. "Probably sometime next week."

"The sooner the better," said Ben. "Something tells me all hell is going to be breaking loose here."

~*~

"Ven explained the diagnosis...he asked for some time to think... It's like he's just..." Kimberly shrugged again, the hurt more and more palpable in her bearing. "It's like he's just shut down. Nothing I've said...or Ven's said's got through..." She swallowed. "He's given up." That last was said with surprising bitterness.

"Given up?" Wes echoed.

"All he cares about is himself. **His** situation. It doesn't matter to him that there's me, and Alice and John involved in this too...that we're a family...it's like the last ten years don't count for anything," Kimberly stated, her voice soft but no less bitter for the lack of volume.

Wes winced. "I'm sure that's not true, Kim."

Kimberly jabbed a hand in the direction of the medi-centre and its sole occupant. "Then explain this, Wes. Damnit -- he nearly fucking died today. For real. No second chances. And he's not dead...not in danger of it...Ven's cured him...he can go **home** in just a few days...so why the hell is he like this? Why the hell does his sight matter so much more than whether he's breathing? Doesn't he get it? Doesn't he realise the choice between having him, even sight-impaired -- and Ven swears that's temporary anyway -- and not having him at all isn't a choice?"

Wes winced again. In Kimberly's words, he could hear the strain the last three weeks had been. Eric wasn't the only one who'd been pushed beyond their limits.

"You know...I could have dealt with it if...if he had died today," Kimberly continued. "I...I could have coped. But this..." And Kimberly seemed to sag inwards, as the anger bled away into complete despair. "I can't take this."

"Oh, Kim..." Wes drew her into an embrace as she started to cry. "Kim -- it's going to be OK."

"Is it?" she asked.

"Yes, it is." He stroked her head as it rested against his shoulder. "Kim -- it's been a hell of a three weeks...no...scratch that. It's been a hell of a three month period. It's been one thing after another -- you and Eric have both been through a lot...and it's come on top of other trouble, with Alice... You both need time. Time to adjust. Time to recover...it doesn't happen overnight."

Kimberly's only response was something incoherent.

"Look," Wes continued, gently. "How about you take a break. You said you wanted to speak to Alice -- so go see her." He paused to smile. "Ask her about what she's gotten to do."

"Gotten to do?" Kimberly echoed, slightly bemused.

Wes chuckled despite the situation. "She'll tell it better than me."

Kimberly pulled away, looking up at him with confusion. "Just where have you been?"

Wes shot her a grin. "Let Alice tell you." He inclined his head in the direction of the medi-centre. "I'll sit with Eric for a while."

~*~

Rick neared the top of the stairs that led up to the roof. Once Ven had finished speaking to her, Alice had vanished. He had wanted to find her there and then, but Ven had suggested he give her a little time. He had waited precisely ten minutes. Whatever was going on, the last thing Alice needed was time alone.

_She broods enough as it is,_ he decided pushing open the door and stepping out onto the roof. Someone had clearly tried to make the roof into some sort of garden, to judge by the rather weedy looking potted shrubs. Whoever it was hadn't put enough effort into it.

Alice was on the far side of the roof, silhouetted against the dusk sky as she looked out across the transport landing pad. She had to have heard the door bang shut, but she didn't move.

"Hey," said Rick softly as he neared her.

Alice shifted fractionally, glancing round. "Hey."

"Thought you could use some company."

"I'm OK."

Rick leaned on the railing and gave her an appraising look. Even in the gathering gloom, he could see the marks of her tears. "Are you?"

"You know he's not my biological father?" Alice asked, avoiding Rick's question and returning her gaze to the far horizon. "He's 'only' my step father."

"Does it make a difference?"

"No." Alice sighed. "Maybe it should."

"Why?"

"It would be easier." Rick said nothing, and Alice suddenly snorted. "Who the heck am I kidding?" Her shoulders sagged. "Without him, mom and I would be dead."

Rick had no response to that.

Alice sighed. "Dirk Cunningham...my biological father is...was a sack of shit. When I was a real little kid...he and mom were married. He used to beat her. She didn't used to fight back...in case I got hurt. The one time he laid a finger on me, mom kicked his butt good...I don't really remember it -- was only three or four -- I just remember suddenly everything was different. We left Florida...came to Silverhills. Huge change. No Dirk. No night time screaming fits...no drunken rages...it was nice.

"Then this guy moved in to the house next door. Didn't used to see him much. Used to hear him though. From time to time. Thin walls." Alice smiled faintly. "Mostly just used to hear his music. Liked it." She smiled a little more. "He never **did** figure out how I knew all the words to one of his obscure albums on first play."

At that, Rick smiled in return.

"Just after my sixth birthday, I caught him out in his yard. He had a bird cage with two birds in -- he was feeding them -- and he just looked so lonely...and the birds looked so pretty. Mom about roasted my butt for hopping the fence to go talk to him...but I had to, y'know?" Rick nodded. "He was the nicest guy about it. 'Fact, I think he was the only reason mom didn't completely roast me. She and I both fell right there and then.

"And just when everything seemed to be going great...that sack of shit Dirk Cunningham showed up again. He beat mom up so bad and grabbed me...I don't know what he was gonna do with me...to me...didn't ever need to find out. Dad found me. Saved me. I think he wanted to kill Dirk for daring to touch mom and me, but he didn't -- at least, I guess he didn't. I don't know what he did to that sack of shit after Rocky took me out of that room...I figure not much, cos I know SPD showed up not long after...but... Can you imagine how good it was to see Eric come through that door?

"If I hadn't been in love before, I was then. I know I was only six, but I know he saved my life then. And then again, a bit later...'bout six weeks, I guess...around about his birthday...I figure I'm not supposed to know about Zafar bel Abis, but I do. Bits anyway. I know he got shot...I know Foster was gonna go back for him and he told him to go...guess it's not everyone who can tell you that by the time they hit seven they've been involved in a fire fight like that one was. Mom kept me down in the car...but I could hear all the bullets and I knew he wasn't OK...knew that he wasn't going to get to the car...knew that if we didn't go 'they' **would** get to the car." Alice wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to ward off the memories. "Scary."

"And you fell harder."

"Dumb, isn't it?"

Rick shook his head. "No." He gently reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's not dumb at all, Ali."

"He's supposed to be the hero." Alice gave a great, shuddering sigh. "He's supposed to be OK." Rick felt a tremor run through her body. "He promised he'd be OK." Rick wrapped his arms around her as she started to cry again. "Why isn't he OK?"

~*~

Wes waited until he was sure that Kimberly was well and truly out of earshot before sitting down beside the bio-bed. Eric still hadn't moved. Wes shook his head.

"You're so full of shit," he murmured.

Not so much a flicker, not that Wes had expected any reaction. Eric had withdrawn so deeply into himself that just basic speech wasn't going to reach him. Whatever Wes was going to say had to be pretty startling before it would penetrate.

Wes smiled faintly. _And if discovering Star Wars was real isn't enough, nothing is._

And so he started talking. About what had happened to him, what he'd seen, learned, done...who he'd met. Every single detail he could think of, he mentioned. From Zordon trying to steal Ben's whosis, to Dimi's constant questions, from Rick and Namir's sudden appearance, to the way Alice had made her entrance. Every single, little thing. Like the Tatooine tavern with the weird music. Like the bar fight and the expression on the guys' faces when they saw how strong Katie was. Like how uncomfortable the Storm Trooper armour was. Even down to the smell in the garbage compactor, Alpha's virus problem and how he'd imprisoned 'Boba Fett'.

And, for a start, nothing changed -- as if Eric wasn't there, never mind listening. But gradually, as Wes slowly talked himself hoarse, Eric's expression began to change. Soften. There was even the faintest of smiles when Wes reached the part about the womp rat. As the monologue ran down, though, a great swell of overwhelming sadness crossed Eric's face.

"I'm probably never going to see those films again."

Just a few simple words that unleashed a torrent of grief, pain and fear. Wes had never seen Eric cry -- it seemed so out of character and wrong, and yet it was possibly the only avenue for the emotional release that Eric needed. For a second, Wes hesitated, unsure of what to do. _Ah, to hell with it!_ He reached over and pulled the other man into an embrace. It felt awkward -- and yet it was what brothers did. And they were brothers. He hadn't been here for Eric when this had begun, but he was here now and he was damn well going to be there for Eric for as long as Eric needed and wanted him to be.

"It's going to be OK," Wes murmured. "It'll be OK."

~*~

Lucas let out a low whistle as Namir finished explaining what he'd found at the TOI. "And you're sure of this?"

Namir nodded. "It's all there for you to look at." So saying, he proffered the datapad he'd been consulting with.

Al growled. "What the hell can he stand to gain from doing this?"

"Revenge," said Rob with a shake of his head. "Whoever this guy is, he's desperate to wipe out this time period and he doesn't care how he does it."

Lucas glanced over the data Namir had handed him. "One thing's clear," he said thoughtfully, "I think we have time on our side."

"What makes you say that?" Al asked.

Lucas handed over the datapad. "We're a full week up on the schedule he'd pegged for us. **That** explains why Wes and Katie were abducted -- his agents still here realised we were too far ahead."

"So what do we do?" Namir asked.

"Well, we can't do anything for another two days -- Eric needs to finish recuperating. After that, he and I need to meet with Kerin and the judgement panel for Eric's court case and get that wrapped up -- with a bit of luck, and thanks to The Master's agents tipping their hand with Ransik's escape, that won't take long. After that..." Lucas spread his hands. "We go to 2013 and we stop this."

~*~

The late afternoon sun shone brightly on Silverhills as people went about their business.

No-one paid any heed to smartly dressed businessman walking along the sidewalk immediately in front of the SGHQ. He looked like anyone else, with his briefcase tucked under one arm and what looked to be a copy of the New York Times' business pages under the other.

Directly opposite the entry to the SGHQ there was a trashcan. As he passed it, the businessman neatly disposed of the newspaper into it. If his pace quickened at all, no-one noticed it, or if they did, they assumed he had just realised he was running late for his next appointment.

As he vanished into the parkland area -- presumably to take a short cut to the heart of downtown Silverhills -- the trashcan made a quiet 'ping' sound.

The next moment, it and the SGHQ, were engulfed in a huge explosion.

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED IN FIVE BY FIVE..._


End file.
